Flight of the Falcon
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Frank Donovan learns that all is not what it seems.
1. Prologue

**TITLE: "Flight of the Falcon"**

**AUTHOR: Ardeth Saunders**

**RATING: R [Language, violence, adult themes]**

**SUMMARY: Frank Donovan learns that all is not what it seems.**

**DISCLAIMER: _UC: Undercover _belongs to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others. NO infringement intended. All other original characters belong to the sick, twisted, and frequently vivid imagination of the author. Please DO NOT use any original concepts, characters, or content of this story without the express permission of the author.**

**A/N: As always, special thanks to Shelley, Dawn, and Serena for your unending support and patience while I rattle on incessantly about my twisted ideas and plots.**

--

**PROLOGUE: A ROUTINE ARREST**

"_FREEZE_," came the indignant shout. "_Drop your weapon!_"

For more than twenty minutes, she had engaged the federal agents in an exhausting chase. The last five or so had been on foot. Frankly, she was just about ready to collapse anyway. Kayla stopped in her tracks, but her fingers were still in fleeing mode. They didn't want to release the Beretta they held so tightly. It was her last string of defense. It was stupid. Utterly stupid. There were three agents on her, perhaps more, and she really had no chance against them. It was insane of her to assume so in the first place. However, she had taken the ultimate chance, and for a moment, she actually thought she was going to get away from them. From _him_. Although her back was turned, she knew he was there. He had shouted the words and probably stood glaring at her with his expressive eyes. _Damn you, Agent Donovan. Damn you to hell_.

There were two courses of action to take. She could throw down her weapon and face the music, or she could go down shooting. Taking the latter option wasn't her way. She had experience with firearms, true, but she had never shot at another human being. It wasn't her role in the jobs. It wasn't her thing. Of course, never before was she so desperate. She had been caught with her proverbial hand in the cookie jar. Sad thing was, she was sorry, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Feeling and saying she was sorry wouldn't keep her from going to prison. It was exactly where she was headed. In a way, she supposed she was glad it was over. Leading two lives, playing both sides of the game, had done something to her. She felt as if she had aged five years since the ordeal began.

"_Drop your weapon. Turn around slowly with your hands up_," came another indignant shout.

This voice belonged to someone else in Agent Donovan's group. Vaguely, she wondered how much his crew knew about what happened. _Best I don't dwell on that right now. If I don't move, I'm dead. It's as simple as that. _Yet another option. It was the coward's way, of course, but maybe…just maybe…she _was _a coward. _Get moving, Kayla. _With almost ladylike precision, she slowly kneeled down and gently placed the Beretta onto the pavement. Her hands had begun to sweat, and the cold metal nearly slipped out of her fingers. Perhaps she hoped it would fire, forcing one of the agents to shoot back in return. _Coward_. As if on cue, rain began to fall, and it soon soaked her to the bone. _How dramatically apt_. She brought her body up and raised her hands like a good girl. Slowly, she turned around. She didn't think she was ready to face Agent Donovan, but it didn't matter. It would happen despite hell.

Before Kayla had the opportunity to breathe, two of the agents were on her. She was down on the roughened, wet pavement, her wet hair obscuring her face. It offered a nice soppy cushion that protected her cheek from the harsh surface. She gritted her teeth angrily as one of them, she thought the man, planted a knee into the small of her back. Her arms were jerked up and out, cruelly yanked behind her. Her wrists were cuffed securely, but the pressure didn't let up. The bastard weighed a ton. As she remained prone against the blacktop, she heard another set of feet approaching. These feet were in no hurry to approach her. _Agent Donovan_. Horribly enough, she heard a tortured moan escaping the depths of her throat. She didn't think anyone could hear it over the pounding intensity of the rain. Donovan might have heard it, his hearing being so ultra sensitive lately. For the moment, she didn't care. She was a felon, for Christ's sake, a felon who had just been caught. She should be kicking and screaming. What harm did a sorry moan do? None.

"Get off her," Donovan commanded.

Immediately, she felt the pressure letting up. She thought she might be able to catch her breath, but she was wrong again. She felt Donovan's hand clamping around her shackled wrist. Roughly, he pulled her up to her knees. Just as roughly, he helped her to her feet. She didn't want to look at him, but when his hand moved to clamp onto her forearm, she had no choice. His grip was vise-like, very painful. She had grown accustomed to a different type of touch from him, and this was new. She didn't like it, but she deserved it, and deserved so much more in return. Oh yes she did. Defiantly, she lifted her head and stared up at him. There was so much rain on her face that he couldn't see she was crying. Good. She didn't want him to see it. But she saw plenty in his eyes. They bore into her, reminding her of a powerful drill set to puncture her flesh, digging jagged holes.

"You have me now," she said quietly.

"And it will be my great honor to see you to prison," he said low and severely.

--

Kayla was pretending to sleep. Since Agent Donovan had nonchalantly escorted her to jail, she hadn't slept more than two hours straight. She wasn't afraid to face prison, but she had already begun to feel stir crazy. _Get used to it, keed. You have fifteen or twenty years of lock-up to look forward to_. There were a lot of things that weighed heavily on her mind, and the most important one was her betrayal of Frank. She could still hear the last kind words he had uttered to her a mere two days ago: _You don't know what you do to me, Kayla_. No. She didn't know. She didn't have one inkling in her confused brain. He was supposed to be no more than a useless toy to her, a tool…a means to an end. She had been repeatedly warned not to get too close to him. She thought she knew what she was doing, but she was wrong. How had she known a chance encounter would screw up everything that she had planned? _Damn it_. What the hell was she thinking? What the hell had she gotten herself mixed up with? What the hell, what the hell. Groaning now, Kayla turned to her side. It was morning already and soon, jail personnel would haul her ass out of her cell for work detail.

"Time to move," a voice shouted gruffly. "Face forward."

She cringed when she heard the voice. 'Face forward' was a universal command. It meant that it was time for her to leave the cell. Sighing, she swung her legs over the uncomfortable cot and brought her body up to her feet. She thrust her hands through the small space in the bars so the guard could snap the cuffs on her wrists. She stepped back and waited patiently as the cell door was unlocked and slid open. She apparently wasn't considered a violent flight risk, because the guard failed to shackle her legs together. She wanted to ask what was going on, but she assumed the guard would be less than forthcoming. Jail wasn't social time, after all.

Kayla was led down the hallway to a corridor on her immediate left. She knew from experience that it was where the prisoners were taken when their attorneys decided to pay a visit. Hers had shown up only yesterday, so she didn't think he would come back so soon. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized it wasn't her attorney at all. _Agent Donovan_. Good God. What the hell was he doing here?

"Take me back, I don't want to see him," Kayla pleaded.

The guard didn't blink an eye. "Move," he barked.

She immediately noticed that Donovan was eyeing her, _scrutinizing _her. The bitter expression had never left his face or his eyes. She was dealing with the man who had taken her down. This definitely wasn't the one who held her so gently in bed, whispering words of comfort and endearment when evil invaded her dreams. It killed her to see him like this, but she had torn open his chest, pierced his heart, and filled it with immense pain. The stoic federal agent looked up at her as she was dragged into the room.

He saw that Kayla was decked out in an unattractive green jumpsuit. He had trouble with the fact that up until about two days ago, she had shared his bed, shared his life. Her betrayal was fresh and biting. Under the table, he shifted his legs uncomfortably. It was the only thing that actually pointed to his true feelings. From the waist up, he sat steady and patient, his hands folded neatly before him. His cold gaze never wavered from her face. He wanted to see _her_, the _real _woman behind the mask. The shock had yet to release him. He was torn between wanting her and wanting to strangle her. He didn't want to admit the dark joy he felt when he clamped his hand down onto her arm. She was in pain and he was obviously hurting her, but it made him feel such black elation. He hadn't felt that way very often, but right now, it possessed his soul. It was the only thing he could feel.

Kayla was shoved down into the chair directly across from him. She pushed her lank hair behind her ears and avoided eye contact with him for a good minute and a half. "What are you doing here," she finally asked.

The sound of her voice was weak and small. He was almost certain she hadn't spoken at all. He found himself ready to ask if she had spoken or if he was finally losing his mind and hearing things. Gathering his wits, he asked, "What did you do with the evidence?"

"I don't think you're here to discuss evidence, Agent Donovan." She had folded her hands in front of her, intentionally mocking him. If he could play it cool, she could as well.

"So you read minds now," he replied bitterly.

"No," she answered smartly. "But I can read you. Why are you here?"

"This is no damn soap opera." The low, severe tone of his voice had returned. "Your real name isn't Falcon, is it?"

"What does it matter now," she asked, suddenly resigned. She was tired. So tired. It was time to end the game. She wanted him out. "What do you want, Frank?"

"The truth would be nice for a change," he began.

He couldn't look at her for a moment. He pushed back from the small table and moved a few steps away. She was too close. Much too close. He had planned this visit to interrogate her, to get to the bottom of this nerve-wracking case, but she had messed him up internally. What he wouldn't give for five minutes alone with her.

"What truth do you seek, Frank? You won't believe anything I say anyway."

Her words angered him, struck a nerve buried so deeply inside, that he actually felt physical pain from the shock. He chewed on his bottom lip and tried desperately to keep the rage bottled inside. He was damn tempted to overturn the table and throw her to the floor. A question bubbled to the surface, one that didn't need to be asked in this setting, in front of a nosy jailer. However, he couldn't contain it anymore. "Why did you do it?"

She hadn't expected his outburst, hadn't expected such a complicated question. He wasn't asking her to explain her motivation or to describe her crime spree. He wanted to know why she had used him. She had no answers. "I don't know," she said weakly.

He chuckled bitterly. "I expected you to say that. You try so hard to be a skillful liar, but you fail miserably. I hope you enjoy your tenure here. Pick up a nice trade, won't you?" He turned to glance at the guard. "Take her away."

Kayla was stretched out on the hard cot that night. Her eyes were focused on the ceiling of her cell. She had been thinking about Donovan all day. If she had taken a different route that day, she never would have darkened his door. _Never would have darkened his door…_

****

**To be continued…**


	2. The Game of Fate

**THE GAME OF FATE**

_I don't want to be found. Nope. I should have hidden underneath the bed this morning_, Kayla thought crazily as she moved swiftly down the busy city street. She had no idea why the thought suddenly attacked her, today of all days. She was running very late, and tardiness tended to make her think about the most ridiculous things. Sighing heavily, she shifted her stack of papers and files to her other arm. They absolutely weighed a ton and she was more than ready to get rid of them. But it would be a while before she saw any real relief. _Today of all days_. She had no true idea that her life was about to take a skid.  
  
Kayla's eyes were focused elsewhere and she didn't see the man approaching her from the other end of the sidewalk. He wasn't exactly coming toward her, he had another destination in mind, but he was distracted today. Perhaps he should have hidden underneath his bed as well. His cell phone had been ringing almost ceaselessly since he woke up at four thirty this morning. For the moment, it was silent, but he figured it was only a brief respite. The man moving toward Kayla was Frank Donovan, head of a special task force of FBI agents, and he had his hands full. He and the team were ordered to infiltrate an elusive gang of bank robbers. _How in the hell can we **infiltrate **anything if we don't know **who **we're looking for_? It was the most frustrating case he had ever been a part of since he took the UC assignment. There were no true suspects, only grainy photographs extracted from a videotape of two members of the supposed gang. Hideous carnival masks covered their faces. One of them was a woman. Outside that, little else was known about them. On the tape [and Donovan had had Cody play it dozens of times], he and the team had heard the woman calling the man "Falcon." It was almost too precious to be a real name. Of course, it would also be naïve of him to believe they would use their real names anyway. Donovan brooded about these facts as he continued down the sidewalk, moving swiftly toward fate. Like Kayla, he had no idea his life was about to change abruptly.  
  
Almost violently, Donovan collided with another pedestrian on the sidewalk. Caught completely off guard, her body went one way, and her armload of files went another. The collision barely joggled him at all, but she landed flat on her backside. Bewildered, she leaned up on her hands and glared at him with a set of the clearest blue-green eyes he had ever seen. At that moment, what he saw in them was extreme anger. She was one pissed off female. If she wasn't so enraged, he might have laughed, lightened the moment.

"You stupid jerk, what the hell do you think you're doing," came her indignant voice. She was already running late, and now she was delayed even more. What made it worse was that it appeared the guy was about to laugh. _Oh. He just better not. Not if he knows what's good for him_.  
  
Sobering immediately, Donovan went to her and offered his hand. For a moment, he wasn't sure she was going to take it. The enraged look never left her eyes as she tucked a lock of honey blonde hair behind her ear and reached out to take his hand. Inside his large paw, her hand was small and fine-boned, almost delicate. But he was certain that description wouldn't fit her personality, especially considering the way she was glaring at him. He noticed that her heart-shaped face held a clear and smooth complexion, marred by a crescent shaped scar near her left eye. She wore little make-up and what she had on accentuated her natural gifts. Her lips were full and red, absolutely luscious. She was young, but had taken great pains to appear older. He had no idea why he stood assessing her like he was. Sighing inwardly, he helped her up to her feet, and didn't hesitate to retrieve her strewn files.   
  
Kayla stood by and stewed as he picked up her things. She was still pissed as hell, but she was allowing some of it to slip away. After all, the jerk _was_ picking up her files. As he diligently worked to help clean up the mess, Kayla caught herself eyeing the decidedly _handsome_ jerk. He was tall and lean with dark hair that was smattered with gray at the temples. By looking at him, she sensed he was younger than he appeared. However, his demeanor put years on him. If he was thirty-five, she would eat his shorts. For no reason at all, that thought suddenly brought color to her cheeks. She fervently hoped he couldn't see it. She shook it off as she took in his other features. His eyes were chocolate brown, his nose slender, and his face adorned with almost severe cheekbones. He wore a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache that framed his face perfectly. His lips were beautiful, with the lower fuller than the upper.  
  
He held her files stacked neatly in his large hands. What seemed like an overwhelming burden to her was nothing more than a few paltry pieces of paper to him. She hated to think how long it would take to reorganize all the paperwork in them. She could hear the bitching now. Not only was she late, but she was going to be buried up to her elbows in paperwork as well. She could forget getting home early tonight. For a brief moment, her rage kicked in again and she was tempted to start screaming at him. But it wasn't right. It wasn't his fault her life was so topsy-turvy. She wasn't truly mad at the decidedly handsome jerk. _Yes, Kayla, let's practice our daily psychoanalysis_. She felt very awkward, very unsure of herself, unsure as to what she wanted to say and do. As it turned out, she didn't have to worry about that.

"Please forgive my inattentiveness," he said suddenly.  
  
His words were spoken with an accent that she couldn't quite decipher. It was obvious he wasn't a native of Chicago. She noticed that he was holding out her stack of files as if they were a gift of attrition. She stared down at them almost stupidly before taking them into her arms. "Only if you'll forgive my outburst. You're not a jerk," she said meekly.  
  
He smiled a little, it immediately reached his eyes, lighting them up. "Just so you know, I have been called worse," he told her, not understanding why he delved into that subject at all.  
  
Right then and there, their contact should have ended. As normal every day strangers, they should have parted ways and continued on toward their separate destinations, but neither of them moved one step. Kayla was terribly late for work and would receive a serious ass chewing once she did arrive. At the nest, there were a few federal agents awaiting their fearless leader and further instructions on their latest greatest feat. Both of them knew they were needed elsewhere, but neither of them were in a great hurry to get where they were going.  
  
She found herself glancing shamelessly at his left hand. _Oh God. Am I that desperate? Please tell me he isn't married. At least let me have that_. She didn't know why she was concerned with that. He probably wasn't interested in her. His hesitation didn't have a thing to do with attraction. It was simple courteous concern. Nothing else. "Thank you for helping me with this ton of paper. By the way, I'm Kayla Armstrong." She would have presented her hand for him to shake, but she was afraid her files would go south again. They were wrecked enough at it was.

He touched her arm in greeting and she felt an amazing score of chill bumps erupting all over her. She praised the Gods for her long sleeves. If he saw her arms, he would think her a freak. "Frank Donovan."

"Thank you again, Frank," she said. She noticed that he hadn't released her arm. "I'm really running late."  
  
He couldn't let her go. Not yet. Not until he did something to keep her around for just a bit longer. He actually couldn't believe he was about to do this. "Would you allow a jerk to make amends by taking you to dinner," he asked suddenly, unexpectedly.  
  
Her heart was beating hard in her chest. "I would," she answered after considering it for half a second.

"Tonight," he asked hopefully. Somehow, he sensed it was too soon.

She wanted to scream out a loud and hardy YES, but she shook her head. "I can't tonight. I'm probably going to be tied up at work until late. Tomorrow might work better for me if that's okay."

He nodded. Eager. He was entirely too eager. Somehow, he felt something should be wrong with this, but he didn't feel the need to second-guess it. He found himself second-guessing almost everything in his life lately and he was sick of it. "It's more than okay." He might have waited two weeks.

"Great," she said with a smile. He watched, bemused, as she kneeled down to set aside her files. She dug out a piece of notepaper and a pen out of her handbag. She scribbled something onto the paper. After gathering her things again, she handed the slip of paper to him. "That's the address of my favorite restaurant. You can meet me there at seven sharp. Don't be late, Frank." Without another word, she turned around and walked away.

_Don't be late. Cute._

--

"You're late."

Kayla sighed and dropped her handbag onto the kitchen table. She muttered 'no shit' under her breath. She was in no mood for Carson's bullshit tonight, and she felt he was ready to lay it on thick. His 'you're late' comment was just the beginning. He had no earthly idea about the kind of day she had. When she had finally made it to work, she had gotten chewed out nine ways to hell and back again. Then she had spent the better part of her time reorganizing her files. How many paper cuts did she get? Twenty? Thirty? Her freaking blood had christened nearly every sheet of paper in those damn files. They were probably biohazards by now. Maybe she should have labeled them with one of those funky shields. Oh well. Too late now. The only good thing about it was smacking into Frank. For now, she ignored Carson, and slipped into her small bedroom. If she didn't get into something more comfortable, she thought she would lose her mind.

When she emerged from her bedroom, Carson was still sitting on the couch with his laptop computer perched precariously on his knees. He was chewing on an ink pen and every now and then, ran a hand through his unruly 'rock star' shoulder length hair. When she was in a better mood, she teased him endlessly about his hair, but tonight wasn't one of those nights. She knew he was planning a job, and when he was doing that, it was best to leave him alone. He normally wanted her there for her input, but he rarely appreciated an outburst. Still, she didn't think she should have to tiptoe around in her own damn house. She ignored him and entered the kitchen. He could tap the computer keys all night if he wanted. She needed food. Food and then bed, in that order. Tomorrow was another day.

"We're meeting with the gang tomorrow night," he suddenly announced as if noticing that she was in the room for the first time.

Kayla's head was buried in the refrigerator. She rose up and gazed at him curiously. Did he say what she thought he said? "Carson, I think you should have said something earlier. Oh, like _this morning_? I have plans tomorrow night."

He looked away from the computer and fixed his moss green eyes on her face. "I think you have forgotten how important this is, Kayla," he said.

She slammed the refrigerator door. How could he say that to her? How _dare _he say that to her? She had the greatest urge to take his precious laptop and slam it up against the wall. "I can't believe you would say that shit to me, Carson. I know how important it is. _Believe me_, I know. I think that once in a while, I deserve a little break from reality, you know? You do, too. It doesn't stop you, does it? I met a guy today and he's taking me to dinner and I'm going. If it makes me selfish, I'm selfish. Do you want to argue about it some more?"

"Who is he?"

"I don't know anything about him yet. I just met him today."

He shook his head. "Find out, Kayla. You can't associate with just anybody. You know that."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Carson. I know. You remind me everyday."

--

Donovan checked and rechecked the address Kayla had given him. The 'restaurant' she said was her favorite was more or less a dive in a seedy neighborhood. He wasn't a snob by the furthest stretch of the imagination, and had even visited places like this when he was in college, but for some reason, he didn't think this was a place a woman like Kayla would frequent. Of course, he didn't really know her either. Then again, perhaps she really did think him a jerk and maybe she had led him here on purpose. Shaking off his paranoia, he entered the building and noticed that it didn't look as bad on the inside as it did on the outside. Inside, it reminded him of a cozy street side diner. It was clean, well lit, and crowded with patrons. There were no tables, only booths, and none of them were vacant.

His worries were for naught when he spied Kayla almost immediately. She was seated in a booth almost perfectly in the middle of the room. She was beautifully dressed in a dark blue skirt and matching blouse. Her honey blonde hair rested against her shoulders and he could almost sense that she wanted to tuck it behind her ears. Perhaps it was a nervous habit. Her hands were crossed before her, but he could see that her thumbs were twiddling ever so slightly. He wondered vaguely if she realized he was slightly nervous as well.

Kayla looked up the instant she noticed Frank entering the room. He was absolutely gorgeous in charcoal gray slacks, a black button-down shirt, and a tan sports jacket. She had been sitting here for a good half hour, hoping that he would show up. For some reason, she thought he might not come. She knew this place wasn't ritzy, perhaps it wasn't exactly the type of joint he might like, but it served the best food in town. She couldn't begin to explain the emotions boiling inside her at the sight of him. _Pace yourself. For God's sake, you know nothing about this man. Nothing, Kayla. You know nothing._

"Wow. You're on time. I'm impressed," she said as he stood by the booth.

His left eyebrow shot up and he grinned. "Well, you did tell me not to be late."

He slid into the booth in front of her and she was immediately enveloped by his entire essence. It was completely overwhelming. It was something hard to define and even harder to explain. She was tempted to touch his hand, but she hesitated.

"Yes," she said. "I did say that, didn't I? Glad the place didn't scare you off."

He shook his head. "I'm hard to scare," he said nonchalantly.

"Glad to hear that." She reached over and plucked two menus out from behind a napkin holder. She handed one to him and opened another before her. "I'm not sure what you like, and you might think I'm insane, but they make a mean plate of chicken and dumplings here."

He glanced down at the menu before looking at her. "Really? I actually love that dish."

She looked at him and smiled. "Are you serious? Or are you just trying to impress me again?"

He returned her smile. "I'm serious, but it doesn't hurt if I scored a few points."

She laughed. "Oh, funny. I was wrong about you. You _are _a jerk."

"Back to square one, I see. I may have to ask you out again to smooth things over a second time," he said.

She shook her head and laughed again. "You're very good at digging, Mr. Donovan. What are you, some kind of cop or something?"

"Not quite. You can say I'm just a very persistent negotiator who doesn't give up so easily."

"Intriguing," she said. "Does that mean you don't take no for an answer?"

"Not very often."

"Oh wow." She closed her menu and focused her sole attention on him. "Now I'm _really _intrigued. What would you have done if I had said no to your dinner invitation?"

He grinned wickedly. "There are a few ways I could have handled that situation, Kayla. Maybe I would have hounded you endlessly until you finally caved in. Or I might have taunted you with one file at a time until you gave me the answer I wanted to hear. Of course, I also may have followed you to your place of employment and made a complete ass of myself until you realized that I wouldn't go away until you accepted."

His steady, lovely gaze unnerved her, but she couldn't look away. A person could drown in his eyes. "If I had known all that, I might have played hard to get. I do enjoy watching men making complete asses of themselves."

He couldn't believe the ease he felt with her. She was nervous, true, but also sweet and flirtatious. He found himself growing more and more attracted to her by the second. He was already planning many more future outings with her. "Why do you think I chose to turn on the charm instead?"

Kayla bit her lip. He was smooth, cocky, and a little arrogant. She liked that a lot and couldn't help but wonder what would happen after tonight. "So you had a game plan all mapped out. You think quite fast on your feet, don't you, Frank?" Before she gave him a chance to answer, she went back to her menu. "So how about those dumplings?"

"Sounds great. I'm famished."

They ate their dinner in relative silence. It was a span of time that should have been uncomfortable and awkward, but it wasn't. Time and time again, Kayla caught herself gazing at Frank when he wasn't looking at her. She didn't know what it was, but she couldn't keep her eyes off him. It wasn't that she was some desperate sex starved female. It hadn't been _that _long since she had had a relationship, but none of the men she had known were like this one. A few times, Frank met her gaze and she would quickly avert her eyes. She didn't realize he was doing the same thing.

When they finished eating, they began chatting casually, talking about almost every subject known to man. Somehow, the subjects of their personal lives and jobs didn't really come up. At the time, neither of them really thought about it. It wouldn't become a big deal until much, much later. Around eleven that night, the proprietor of the diner chased them out.

Once they were outside, Frank stood with Kayla on the darkened city street. "I'll walk you to your car."

"Actually, I walked here from my apartment. I live about two blocks west of here," she said.

There was no way he would allow her to walk that two blocks alone. No way at all. "So I'll walk you home."

For a moment, Kayla panicked. She didn't want him to come to her building. She didn't want him to know where she lived or take the risk of running into Carson. Not yet. She didn't know that much about him. However, temptation won out. "Okay."

They turned in the direction toward Kayla's apartment building and began their short journey. They continued to make small talk, and both hated to see the night end. Once they made it up to the lobby door of the small apartment building, Kayla stopped.

"This will be fine," she told him.

Damn it to hell, but he didn't want to say good night. He reached out and took her hand into his. "Thank you for not playing hard to get."

She smiled and tightened her grip on his hand. "The pleasure was all mine."

"No," he said. "I'm almost certain it was mine."

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he leaned toward her and pressed his full lips against hers. She was stunned at first and didn't quite know how to react. However, when the shock wore off, she relaxed and accepted his gentle kiss. His breath was warm and sweet, his lips incredibly soft against hers. She could have stood there all night long and kissed him. She actually never wanted to see it end, but unfortunately, after a few moments, it did. She stood back and gazed up at him as if he were a famous movie star and she a starstruck fan.

"I would like to see you again," he said after he ran his tongue thoughtfully over his lips, as if he were tasting her a final time.

She hadn't recovered from her sense of starstruck shock, but she was able to move. She dug an ink pen out of her handbag. He watched, amused, as she scribbled a phone number onto the palm of his hand. "Call me."

He gazed down at his hand with a grin. "I definitely will."

She turned to go inside, but she was still encased within her weird shock, and she ran smack into the door. Her nose collided painfully with the glass of the lobby door. _Oh Lord, let me die right now. _She felt Frank's hand on her forearm.

"Are you okay," he asked, concerned.

She turned toward him, her cheeks turning three shades of red. "Yes. Just unbearably clumsy."

She saw his face coming toward hers, and she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he pressed his lips against her forehead. "Good night, Kayla. I'll call you tomorrow."

_I so can't wait_. "Good night."

This time, she managed to open the lobby door without breaking her nose. She slipped inside and floated up to her apartment.

****

**To be continued…**


	3. How The Game Is Played

**HOW THE GAME IS PLAYED**

Kayla expected Carson to be in bed by now, so she dug her door key out of her handbag and inserted it into the deadbolt lock. When it didn't turn easily, she realized that it wasn't locked. Odd. Right before a job, Carson was almost obsessive compulsive about his sleep. He went to bed and rose at the same time without fail. Kayla took out her key and turned the knob. The door opened and she slipped inside. Sure enough, Carson was sitting on the couch, watching television. She had had too nice of an evening to pay attention to him right at that moment. However, she figured he'd have plenty to say. Before it all began, Kayla placed her handbag onto the low table by the door and kicked off her shoes. She was still thrown by Frank's soft kiss. He had caught her entirely off guard with that, but she hadn't been one ounce offended that he had done it. In fact, she thought she might have been offended if he _hadn't _done it. Silently, she padded into the living room, past the stoic Carson, and on into the kitchen. Although washing the sweet taste of Frank out of her mouth was the last thing she wanted to do, she needed to get something to drink. When she was as nervous as she had been tonight, she tended to drink like a fish. As she poured herself a glass of iced tea, she found herself hoping…no…_praying _that Frank's life would be so sedate that she could keep seeing him. And this was only after one date. _One _date. She didn't know what it was about him that made him so wonderful in her eyes, but there was something about him. Something that she couldn't yet identify. Her life was so 'special' that not just any man could come knocking at her door. Carson reminded her of that every other day, every other time she met a man.

The last fellow she had dated was someone Carson had known back in high school. His name was Tom and he was a dark, longhaired musician. Kayla had met him after hers and Carson's first big job. They had nearly messed up and had barely gotten away with their lives. After the excitement and adrenaline had died down, Carson suggested that they go to an all-night music club type of thing to wind down. Kayla hadn't been in the mood. All she wanted to do was go home and soak in a hot tub for three or four hours. The fear of almost getting caught had not gone away yet and she was trying to learn how to deal with that, but Carson was feeling particularly cocky. When he was like that, he was pushy. Reluctantly, she agreed to go. After all, he was the brain and brawn of the operation. If he said all was well, who was she to argue with that? She went to the noisy club and immediately regretted it. However, the first person she met without the probing eyes of Carson was Tom. He was attractive and had nice eyes. His band was playing the club that evening, and as it turned out, they weren't half bad, either. It wasn't until later that evening that she found out Tom knew Carson. Of course, Carson approved, but only because Tom had hung around Carson's crowd in high school. As it turned out, the romance didn't last very long. Tom had a roving eye. However, Carson didn't break his ties with him. He invited Tom to be a part of the gang, and Kayla was horrified when she realized he agreed to join them. Carson liked Tom and wanted Kayla to give him another chance. He thought Tom was perfect for Kayla. He knew about their operation and he supposedly genuinely had feelings for Kayla. Sometimes, she thought Carson was cracked. She knew there was no way in hell her brother was going to approve of Frank, even if he found out Frank was an ex-convict with a rap sheet as long as he was tall. It didn't matter. This was one thing she wasn't going to give over. Hell no. She had given over many things in the last year.

Kayla carried her glass of tea into the living room and sat down in her favorite easy chair. She noticed that her stoic brother was still staring at the television. His eyes were unseeing. She knew he was preparing his speech. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. His laptop lay mutely beside him. He had probably just shut it down moments ago. _Just come on out with it and get it over with already. Have your temper tantrum so I can go to bed. If not, let me have my nice evening. Please. Just this once. Let me have a nice evening and forget about it. _But she knew he wouldn't. It wasn't Carson's way.

"The next job is going to be Nigel and Louisa's," Carson said, dropping a bombshell.

Kayla nearly choked on her iced tea. She set her glass down on the floor and gawped incredulously at her brother. Had she heard what she thought she heard? "What did you say? _Nigel and Louisa_? They're the shakiest members of the gang! Carson? Have you lost your mind? They're not ready to do a job yet. Yesterday, you were preaching about me losing my focus. I'm beginning to think it's _you _losing _yours_."

He focused his decidedly dirty colored eyes on her face. Oh he was very pissed about her running off on her date tonight. Oh yes he was. "Yeah, they're shaky, but they need to do a job. I've had them with Tom on two weeks in the van on monitoring. They've seen the operation, they've watched the better of the crew, and I think they're ready. While you were out on your _date_, the gang was over tonight, and we discussed the possibility of throwing them in. Everybody thinks they're ready, Kay, even Tom. And you know that outside you, I trust Tom more than any other person in the gang." He ended it right there. He would accept no more arguments about anything. He glanced back at the television, and for a moment, she thought he was going to drop the whole thing. But that wouldn't be like Carson. No siree. "This guy you went out with tonight, Kay. What do you know about him? I'm sure you talked. A four-hour date must have yielded some damn fine conversation."

Kayla picked up her tea glass and took several careful sips from it. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to tell him. She wanted to let him know it wasn't any of his damn business. Yet, Carson was paranoid. It was something he had always been, especially since they had begun dabbling in their extracurricular activities. Every person he met was a cop. Every person was out to get him. He was probably certain that Frank had already figured them out and knew what they were doing. He probably thought Frank had been sent to follow them around. "We didn't talk about our jobs or our career goals, if that's what you're getting at, Carson," she began. "For once, I had a nice evening out with someone and we talked about everything…and nothing. That's all. He took my cell number and left. I sincerely doubt he'll call me again, if that makes you feel better." She hadn't really understood where the last part of that sentence had come from. It was what she felt, though. He had said he wanted to see her again, and he seemed sincere, but men like him rarely were. She had met dozens like him, and they were all shits. _You're just saying that so you can ease the pain when you cut the strings on this blooming thing. You're going to let Carson win just like you always do. You might as well start dating Tom again and have done with it._ "I think I'm going to bed now."

She was about to get up, but his voice stopped her. "Before you go, let me say something to you. I can tell by the way you came in that you had a nice time. And I'm glad you did. I know it's been a long time. I know it's been difficult for you, for us both. We just need to be careful about our associations, that's all. We're close to having what we need, and we can't stop or get caught now. That's all I wanted to say."

She nodded. "Fine, Carson. Good night."

--

Donovan pulled his ebony black truck into the covered carport. He lived about forty-five minutes from the city and had had quite a drive. His house was well shaded by several large trees and further enhanced by a long sloping driveway. It was the perfect getaway from the crazy shuffle and bustle of the city. Before leaving the house tonight, he had turned on the porch light and it illuminated the carport brightly, welcoming him home. He heard a deep sigh leaving the depths of his chest. What was this? The first stirrings of depression? Regret? It wasn't regret over the date. He hadn't had a date like that in months, but it was regret over ending it so soon. What in the world was he thinking? He didn't know this woman. Not really. Regardless of their four-hour date, there were still so many questions left unanswered. A suspicious man was Frank Donovan. Shaking his head, he closed the truck door and approached his back door. He was still shaking his head as he unlocked the door and let himself inside. As he stepped into the kitchen, he flicked on the overhead fluorescents, and noticed that the light was blinking on the phone hanging by the refrigerator. He had one voice mail message awaiting him. There weren't many people who had his personal phone number. Even the Central Office didn't have it. There was no way in hell he allowed his workplace entrance into his private sanctuary. It was one reason why he carried a cell phone. He hit 'play' and listened to the message.

It was Emily, his ex-wife. They had known each other their entire lives and married during their sophomore year at college. The marriage lasted eight years before ending in divorce. There weren't any extramarital affairs, no bitter fighting, no nipping and biting at each other's heels. They had simply drifted apart. Each wanted different things out of life. It was as simple as that. It ended amicably and they still spoke to each other on the phone at least once a week. Ironically enough, Donovan still considered Emily one of his best friends and didn't hesitate to call her if he needed an ear or a sympathetic shoulder. She often did the same thing. Hadn't she called upon him when she was trying to decide whether or not to accept her current husband's marriage proposal? Wasn't he the first person she told when she found out she was expecting her first child? They each had respect for the others' opinion. They each first thought of the other when they had wonderful, exciting, or devastating news to share. And as other old friends living in different corners of the United States, they remembered each other's birthdays and never forgot to send a card at Christmas. Neither of them had trouble realizing that they shouldn't have gotten married. It was something that was expected of them. It was done more for their families than anyone else. He was simply glad they had had the good sense to end it when they did before they had gotten children involved. Emily was remarried now, painfully happy, and the mother of twin boys. It was as it should be, and he was very happy for her. He listened to the message, her telling him that she was coming to Chicago for business, and she wanted to make plans to have lunch. He saved it, making a mental note to call her in the morning. For now, he wanted to go upstairs and hit the bed. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

He climbed the stairs two at a time and entered his bedroom. He had begun to undress, but stopped after his shirt was unbuttoned. For a moment, he eyed the computer screen sitting off into the corner. He liked Kayla, he wanted to see her again [_and again and again and again_], but in his line of business, he had to be careful. His home office computer was wired into the mainframe at Central and it would be fairly easy to check Kayla's background. He hated being so suspicious, but again, he couldn't risk the chance that she had a shady past. All it took to convince him was to think back to a year ago and Petra.

Petra was an ambitious young police officer at the Chicago Police Department. He had met her during a routine job. She and a crew of her fellow police officers had been called to a scene of a murder and the UC team had also been asked to appear. After their grisly task was accomplished, he and Petra had struck up a nice conversation and hit it off. When he asked her out for a drink, she had agreed readily enough. He had little issue with Petra. After all, she knew who he was, knew what he did, and for once, he felt free and comfortable. Of course, that wound up being his downfall. Their relationship didn't quite progress to a serious point, because Petra wouldn't allow it. She absolutely drove him to the point of insanity, but she wouldn't cross the line between dating and intimacy. Donovan couldn't quite understand her reluctance, but it immediately caused seeds of suspicion to grow and flourish within his mind. Whenever he pressed the issue with her, she made pitiful excuses, and would flee the scene without a thought. He used every connection he possessed to find more information about Petra. Eventually, the truth unfurled. She was working undercover with the police department for the CIA. Apparently, one of the officers was from a terrorist nation with a vendetta to settle against the President. The President was scheduled to visit Chicago some time in the near future, and Petra was stationed in the area to stop the dirty cop. She had no true interest in Donovan. He was simply a shortcut between her and her terrorist, because the individual was one of Donovan's old enemies. Petra knew this. She had known it all along. She knew he could identify the young man if he ever saw him. It was her way to CIA glory. After that, Donovan had had severe trust issues with women, and he was always worried that they had some type of bottom line. Although Kayla didn't strike him this way, he wasn't taking any chances.

He took a seat at his computer and hit a key to interrupt the 'flying through space' screensaver. After tapping a few keys, he had the program he wanted and carefully typed in Kayla's name. The program was relatively fast and would provide him the information he wanted within moments. _Kayla Armstrong_, he read silently to himself. It had to be the right person. The phone number matched the one she had scribbled on the palm of his hand. The rest of her information was displayed like the vital statistics of a personals ad: _Age: 27. DOB: 07/15/1977. Address: 715 Irby Lane, Apartment 34C. Employer: Miss Ruth's Day School._ Sounded harmless enough. She worked at a day care center. The files she was carrying probably pertained to the children at the day care. After reading through the information a second time, he felt like a distrustful fool. Not every woman was like Petra and her forked tongue. He didn't know when he was going to stop dodging that particular bullet and move on with his life. He backed away from his computer and stood up. He finished undressing, stripping down to his briefs, and he glanced down at his hand with an amused grin on his face. Her number was still there, not the least bit smudged. He sat down on the side of the bed and continued to stare down at his hand. The bedside clock had already ticked off the hour of midnight. _It's already tomorrow._

Kayla hadn't been in bed very long when she heard the unmistakable sound of her cell phone twittering. _What the hell_? She rolled over and grabbed it before her grizzly bear brother heard it. All she needed was for him to wake up and start bitching. Bleary eyed, she glanced at the screen. She didn't recognize the number, but she hit the 'send' key anyway and brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello," she said sleepily.

"Kayla, it's Frank. I know it's late, but it's tomorrow, and I said I would call you tomorrow."

She came wide-awake at the sound of his dreamy voice. Oh dear Lord. She couldn't describe what she was feeling at that moment. But giddy and light-headed would come close. Very close. _Damn you Frank Donovan. _Kayla would think that very same thing many, many times in the near future. "A man who would get a woman out of bed this late is a jerk," she teased. "I'm glad you remembered to call, though. I thought you'd stand me up or something."

"Not quite," he said. "I can't believe you're flip even after you've been awakened from your nightly slumber," he said through an amused chuckle. "I wanted to wish you a good night before I go to bed myself. I meant what I said. I really do want to see you again. Why don't we try having dinner at my favorite restaurant tonight?"

Kayla bit her lip. Bit it hard. Something inside told her to refuse him, to end this while she could. Yet, another voice pushed her forward. What harm was this? He evidentially saw something in her that he liked. She saw something in him that she liked. Shit. She liked _everything _she saw. There wasn't _anything _she _didn't _like. Even his arrogance turned her on. Dear God. Why did this feel so right, but oh so wrong at the same time? She couldn't let her overbearing big brother ruin everything for her. "I would like that very much, Frank," she said, finally answering his question. "One question, though. I don't have to put on a sequined dress or anything, do I?"

He laughed. "No. Only if you want to. I can pick you up at…"

Before he finished his sentence, she interrupted him. She once again thought of Carson. After what happened tonight, she knew he wasn't ready to meet her brother. _There's still more digging I must do in your background, Frank. God, I'm sorry. _"Uh, no. That won't be a good idea. I have to work until about seven'ish. You can pick me up at work, if you want. I work at a day care. It's Miss Ruth's Day School on the corner of Madison and Seventh."

In the back of Donovan's mind, he wondered what her aversion was to his picking her up at home. He shook it off. "I know where it is." _Of course you know where it is, you bastard. You just checked her background. You should go ahead and have Cody to do a full scope tomorrow at the nest and have done with it_. "I'll be there at 7:30."

"That'll be great." At 7:30, Carson, Tom, Nigel, and Louisa would be long finished with the job. It was something that she didn't want to think about. "I can't wait."

"Me either. Once again, Kayla, good night."

She closed her eyes tightly while his words sank in. "Good night." She hit the 'end' key, longing to feel his full lips on hers again.

Kayla laid her phone on the nightstand and settled back in bed. She was sure Carson was going to be thrilled to find out she had another date with Frank. She wasn't inclined to care what Carson thought, but eventually it would be her turn again to participate in one of the jobs. They had enough people in the gang where she didn't have to join in but about every eight or so weeks. However, it was all her responsibility. She had no trouble seeing that. When it was born, it was her baby at the beginning, and it would be her baby until the end.

****

**To be continued…** __


	4. The Sideshow

**THE SIDESHOW**

"The first bank robbery that can be attributed to the Sideshow probably happened a little over a year ago," Monica began.

She was just about to continue, but Donovan spoke up. "Sideshow," he commented, his voice sounding almost confused. It was the first time he had heard a name attached to the series of bank robberies. He knew the FBI was fond of attaching nicknames to bank robbers, but 'sideshow' seemed somewhat ridiculous. Normally, he wouldn't have interrupted her, but today, thoughts best left at home distracted him. Not only that, but how were they to work this case if they didn't know who to contact to dig into the gang? He had thought that before, and would likely do so time and time again. He could nearly hear even more gray hairs growing into his hair.

****(**_See author's note at the bottom of the page_**) Monica shrugged apologetically, as if she could excuse the nickname. "I'm under the assumption that our FBI brethren saw fit to nickname the perps the Sideshow because of the freak show carnival masks. They tend to wear them at every job. One was even found at the earliest heist that I was about to touch upon." She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. "The first job happened at a small bank in an even smaller town outside the city limits of Chicago. I'm guessing that it was probably a practice run. It was fairly clever. Bank personnel remember seeing a young man entering the bank on Friday afternoon and making a request to access his safe deposit box. He was allowed inside, unsupervised, to take care of business and that was the end of the story, or so they thought. Not one employee bothered to check on him or escort him out. The bank closed at five o'clock sharp that evening and everyone went home and had a nice weekend. After the bank had been opened for a few hours that following Monday, another customer was escorted into the room to retrieve an item from one of the boxes. When the customer inserted her key into the lock, it fell apart all around her. The fellow had apparently somehow drilled the locks out and carefully reconstructed each so that they appeared in tact, but once a key was inserted, they would merely crumble. As it turned out, the boxes were very rudimentary in design. He cleaned out several of them over the weekend. They were stunned as to how he achieved this feat until they did a little searching. He had wedged himself in behind the space between the wall and the lock boxes. He had brought a small bag with enough food and water to do him. He used the empty water bottles to take care of certain bodily functions and left behind some of his trash. When the coast was clear, he simply climbed out and walked away scot-free with about ten thousand dollars worth of cashable bonds. After that, the bank changed their floor plans, reinforced the security of their lock boxes, and geared up security.

"The rest of their jobs are everyday run-of-the-mill standard bank robbery set-ups. Two people on the inside, at least two on the outside serving as lookouts. So far, they haven't taken the ultimate step with a hostage situation, but they don't hang around long enough to be that desperate. They're in and out, taking no longer than five minutes at each job. They don't take very much money at any one haul. The most they have scored is about a hundred thousand. They favor small banks over large ones, but they hit a lot of them, and they hit in the morning right after the trucks make their early money runs. Outside the first heist, they haven't left one shred of forensic evidence behind, and I believe the only reason the mask was even used the first time was that if plan 'A' failed, the fellow would have something to fall back on. When the FBI first began with this case, they believed it was a small group of people perpetrating each heist. However, they're now convinced that it's a fairly sizeable group, but we don't know for sure."

She waited to see if anyone else was going to interrupt, waited to hear another of Donovan's interjections, but he was uncharacteristically silent. The rest of the team was listening raptly. This case had been a difficult nut for them all to crack. It seemed as if everyone…and no one…knew who the ringleader was. They had dozens of witnesses, but no real leads. "As far as their mindset," she said, continuing, "The leaders-whoever they may be-probably feel fairly cocky and powerful right now. They have perpetrated one successful heist after another with little effort and no suspicion. And before anyone says a word, we have no suspects. But bank robbers are the worst criminals, they eventually break under the strain, someone in the gang gets greedy, or scared, or if we're lucky, loose-lipped. Mistakes are inevitable. Historically, they are notorious for that very thing."

Donovan was getting a headache. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and fought the urge to sigh heavily. He didn't want the team to hear the weariness or strain. He didn't have to ask Monica to know that the only true piece of evidence they did have on the team of bank robbers was the uttered name "Falcon." Again, as he had thought previously, he was positive it wasn't a true name. It was probably another nickname like the hideous moniker "Sideshow." They had the grainy surveillance video from one of the security cameras and Central promised to send them a dozen more from other bank jobs. It was supposed to prove their theory that there were more than two people carrying away the money. And that was another thing. The money. What was happening to it? There was no evidence that a large amount of money was seen in circulation anywhere in the Chicago area or the state of Illinois for that matter. Hell, the money wasn't even marked at all. What the hell was the Sideshow [inwardly, he groaned…now _he _was calling them "Sideshow"] doing with the damn money? It had to be going somewhere. He wasn't naïve, and hadn't been born yesterday, he knew that bank robbers weren't idiotic enough to wind up with marked money, but cash and or goods usually turned up somewhere. Someone would notice a person spending a wad of money he or she didn't have just the day before. There were more than a few people willing to squeal on another person if it meant a favor would be bestowed upon them. It was a harsh fact of life, but a fact all the same. Besides, as Monica had said, mistakes were inevitable. Something was bound to give. However, he didn't want to become a frothing old man waiting for it to happen. Central Office and his superiors were breathing down his neck. He was good at what he did, he produced results, but they had to realize that he wasn't a miracle worker. He didn't have the answer to every question asked of him. To dig into this difficult, nerve-wracking case, they would have to begin with the lowest common denominator.

Although not easy, Donovan could think past the headache. He stroked his goatee almost distractedly. "The carnival masks," he said. "They're key to the gang," he commented off-handedly, probably telling them something they already knew. "We know from the video and from what we've heard that they favor wearing freakish clown faces. I'm not sure how hard those are to find, but Cody, I want you to do a search of every store in the state that sells them. Isolate every customer. If you can't find any in the state, expand your search."

He wasn't certain how successful that search would be. Again, they ran the risk of the buyer giving a false name. There was also the chance that not every store kept pristine records. _It's the lowest common denominator_. It was a bad place to start, the _only _place to start. What was next in line? Choosing banks to stalk? If it came down to that, they would have to do it. However, he didn't think it would come to that. Every gang had at least one weak member, one member greedier than all the rest. If that one member felt the least bit cheated or slighted, their case would unfold for them. They would be in and it would be over. Donovan didn't give Cody a chance to give him a smart-ass remark about his latest assignment. Instead, he went upstairs to brood for a while. He expected a phone call from his superiors at any second. The heat was on, and he could feel the flames licking at his feet. He didn't care about the pressure. He fed off pressure. It motivated him more than anything ever did. But he didn't like being made to feel like a fool, and somewhere, a gang of bank robbers was laughing. They didn't know whom they were laughing at, but he did, and it was enough to make his blood boil.

Later, Donovan looked up when Cody entered the room. He figured the young agent had already completed the task set before him. _Finally! A lead_. However, the almost elated thought drifted away as soon as it entered his head the moment he got a good look at his face. Something wasn't right. "You have something for me?"

"Sure, Boss," Cody said. "Not sure you're going to like it. This just came over the wire." He handed Donovan a printed sheet of information.

Donovan took the sheet and stared down at it for several minutes. It seemed as if he were trying to burn the words into his brain. Was he trying to memorize them? _Absorb _them? He couldn't believe it. He utterly couldn't believe. While he had been sitting on his ass in his office, while Cody had been banging away at his computer, another bank robbery had happened right under their damn noses. This bank was about twenty miles outside town. It was the Sideshow. The information on the sheet of paper said so. Two subjects had entered the bank in carnival masks and had taken approximately fifty thousand dollars in small, unmarked bills. They fled on foot after no more than five minutes. No one had seen the getaway vehicle or could identify the suspects. One was a man, the other a woman. _Goddamn it_. He was already crinkling the paper beneath his hand.

As if sensing that Donovan had rather have his tantrum alone, Cody slipped quietly out of his office to continue the Herculean task of tracking down the mask purchases. When he knew he was alone, Donovan did ball up the sheet of paper within his fist. For no reason at all, he wanted to inflict pain on it. _Right under their goddamn noses_, another robbery had occurred, and no one had been the wiser. _I'll find you_, he thought. _So help me God, I'll find you_. After a moment, he had calmed down enough where he could face the other members of the team. Although it might not yield any further useful information, he thought it might not be a bad idea for he, Alex, and Jake to visit the bank. He had to assess the scene. Had to walk where they walked. If he could get a feel for them, maybe they could find the clues that they so desperately needed.

**777**

Kayla had just hung up with Carson. He had spent a better part of thirty minutes giving her the "I told you so" speech. Nigel and Louisa had pulled off the job without a hitch. _Well, good for them_. She hated feeling that way. She knew they needed to keep it up for a little while longer, but she grew more uncomfortable by the day. Of course it didn't help that she and her brother had had a few words when she told him she was seeing Frank again tonight. _Tonight, Kay, you find out what he does. I don't care how you do it. Just do it_. In all honesty, she didn't _want _to know what he did, because if he told her, she would probably never see him again. They had had all of one date [_tonight will make two_], and she already couldn't see herself giving him the boot. Jesus. What the hell was she going to do? Sighing heavily, she put away her phone and checked her watch. She had just enough time to change before Frank picked her up.

Donovan parked his truck into a slot at Miss Ruth's. He glanced down at his watch and noted that he was a few minutes early. Earlier today, he thought he might have to break the date. The bank robbery had messed up his internal gears, and when they visited the place, it hadn't gone well. As he had expected, they hadn't found anything new, and he wasn't happy about it. However, he didn't want to break the date because he hadn't gotten his way. A night out was exactly what he needed to get his mind off it. He had been obsessing about this case since they had received the assignment and brooding about it wasn't healthy. _For God's sake, why must I beat this proverbial dead horse too death_? Shrugging it away, he exited his vehicle and made his way toward the day care center.

Kayla heard a hollow pecking at the front door. She had chased away the last parent about an hour ago. The hall clock just over her head told her it was 7:28. It had to be Frank. She had lost all track of time. She smiled a little. He was certainly a timely fellow. She definitely liked that about a man. She moved toward the front door, her heels echoing along with her. As she drew nearer, she realized it was, indeed, Frank. She had half expected it to be a parent looking for a missing kid or something. _Thank God it's not a parent. I don't think I could handle another one tonight_. She noticed that he was smiling at her and waiting patiently. She unlocked the door and watched as he stepped back to allow her to come outside. He waited as she locked up the building and slipped the keys into her handbag. When she turned to face him, she noticed that he was watching her with the same patient expression he wore as she was unlocking the door. Again, she felt almost unnerved by his watchful gaze, but couldn't help but think it beautiful. She didn't want to spoil tonight by delving into his background. He didn't seem like a man who would give away much about himself without a crowbar and some stiff prying. _Go away, Carson, I won't let you ruin this for me. I won't_. She noticed he was dressed in dark slacks and a brown pullover sweater. _He's absolutely gorgeous_.

They walked to his truck without saying a word to each other. As was the case the night before, it was a very comfortable silence. He took advantage of the quiet to gaze at her. She was well put together in cream-colored slacks and a black silk blouse. Her hair was brushed back away from her face and hung down her back. It smelled soft and sweet, like vanilla. She intrigued him more than any woman he had met, and the amazing thing about it was that he couldn't explain why. He didn't know that much about her, hadn't spent that much time with her, but since meeting her, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her, and couldn't drive her out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. Even when he was trying to work, thoughts of her kept creeping in. It wasn't like him to become so consumed by another person, but he wasn't altogether disturbed by that fact. He walked to the passenger side door and opened it for her. As she climbed inside the vehicle, he caught a whiff of her perfume. It, like her hair, was scented the faintest of vanilla. Once he climbed into the drivers' side, their eyes met. Just like that. He couldn't help it. He leaned toward her and kissed her.

Over dinner, they once again talked about everything and nothing. Donovan asked Kayla about her day care job, and she bored him with stories about the kids and their crazy parents. Politely, he listened and laughed in what she assumed were all the right places, but she was certain she was driving him nuts. She couldn't help it. When she was around him, she felt like a teenager out on her first real date. When he reached out and took her hand, she thought she would die. When he didn't let go, she was convinced she _had _died and gone to heaven. Oh yes. This was it for her. She didn't care if he ever kissed her again as long as he never released her hand. Of course, her giddiness was enhanced by a couple of glasses of wine. Her mood was only slightly dented when he asked if she had a large family. This she didn't dwell on. She answered shortly and simply. "One brother. One sister." She dropped it right there and he didn't pursue the subject further. Perhaps he sensed it was a potential sore spot. Not once did she approach the subject of his career. She didn't want to. She was afraid. So afraid. Yet, she noticed he wasn't immediately forthcoming with his own information, but that was okay. A little mystery was a good thing.

When she recognized a song playing in the background, her motor mouth finally shut, and she tugged on his hand. "Dance with me," she said.

Donovan looked around at the couples swaying to the music a few feet away. He had all but forgotten that this particular restaurant also had a dance floor. It had been quite some time since he had been here. He smiled a little. "Uh uh. I don't dance."

"Oh, come on," she implored and tugged on his hand again. "What is it? Do I embarrass you? Dance with me. I love this song."

He also recognized the ballad. It was a fairly popular song in the early '80s, a duet sang by a man and a woman from two different rock groups. He wasn't a fan of either band, but the radio stations played the song almost endlessly. "Do you? How old you were you when this song was out? Five?"

She smirked at his smiling face. "Oh shut up. Come on, Frank. Dance with me before the damn song is over."

Resigned for the time being, he allowed her to bring him to his feet and lead him out to the dance floor. He took her hand in his, put his arm around her waist, and held her body against his. This was the closest he had been to her and it felt amazing. Strangely enough, he found himself actually listening to the lyrics of the song. How many damn times had he heard this song in the '80s and virtually ignored it? However, tonight, he was listening to every single word, _feeling _every single word. He didn't look away from her eyes once. It was something he couldn't do. He was totally unaware of the movement of their bodies and didn't actually know if they were moving at all. He could actually feel every single beat of her heart, could hear every breath she took. It was indescribable. Beyond words. How cliché was this? How dramatic? Yet, it was happening. Every single thing. He was completely overwhelmed by it all. Without thinking, without taking a breath, his lips covered hers. He heard her moan just a little when his tongue touched hers. When the kiss ended a moment later, he kissed her again, and then again. As he had thought earlier, he couldn't help it. Tonight, he was losing himself, and he absolutely didn't care.

When the song ended, and he allowed her to breathe again, she looked up at him with a smile. "I thought you didn't dance."

"So, I told a half truth," he said and returned her smile.

Hand in hand, they walked out to his truck, parting only long enough to climb inside. Once they were inside the close confines, their lips joined again. When the consuming kiss ended, Kayla's hand remained on Frank's cheek, and her thumb caressed his bottom lip gently. He was gazing steadily at her with his beautiful eyes.

"You don't talk much about you, do you," she teased. She honestly wasn't probing for information. She simply wanted to know more. She just didn't want him to tell her about his job. Inherently, she already knew.

He smiled a little guiltily. She was right. She had told him so much about herself tonight, but he hadn't said hardly anything. "It's past midnight," he began.

"And what do you do after midnight? Turn back into a frog?"

He covered her hand with his and brought hers down off his face. He held it in his own, reveling in the feel of her soft silky skin against his. "That's only when there's a full moon. If you had allowed me to finish, I was going to say that it's late, and next time, I promise to give you more details about my boring life."

"I'm sure there are many facets to your life, Frank Donovan, and I'll bet none of them are boring." She sighed. "But if I must, I suppose I can wait until next time."

He smiled a little. "How is this for starters? I'm an only child and I live alone in a big house out in the country."

"It's okay for a little taste," she said. "Just so you know, I'm greedy and I want more."

"I do adore those qualities in a woman."

Donovan drove her back to the day care center and she directed him toward the employee parking lot where her car was located. He parked in the slot next to hers and got out with her. Once again, he found himself not wanting the night to end. He stood with her against the truck and kissed her once more. He had kissed her so many times tonight and couldn't seem to get enough of her sweet lips. She was intoxicating and hypnotic. A dizzying mix, an amazing one.

When the kiss ended, she gazed up at him. "Call me?"

"Count on it."

When Kayla arrived back at the apartment, she noticed that Carson had company. Tom was over and the two men were playing cards. From the looks of it, they had been at it for several hours. She was intent on ignoring them and heading straight for bed. Somehow, she didn't think it would be so easy, and she was right.

"What did you find out about Frank," Carson asked off-handedly.

"Who's Frank," Tom asked. This was news to him. He hadn't been aware they were adding any new members to the mix.

"A guy Kayla has started seeing," Carson explained. "Well?"

_Tell the world, why don't you_? She didn't want Tom knowing about Frank. She couldn't explain it, but it was just something that he didn't need to know. "He's a stock broker," she said, lying easily. "See. Harmless. Will you get off my back?"

Carson picked up his beer bottle and finished off the last of his drink. "A stock broker, huh? Interesting." He tossed the empty bottle into a nearby wastebasket. "While you were out, Dora called."

For a moment, Kayla's breathing caught in her throat and her heart seemed to stop beating. "Dora? All this time you've been busting my ass about Frank when Dora called? What did she say?"

It was the first time in two days that Carson's features seemed to lighten, to soften up. "It looks good."

She felt like a parrot. "It looks good?" _Oh. Thank God, thank God_.

****

**To be continued…**

**A/N: This scene was heavily influenced by an episode of _Masterminds_ on _Court TV_. It was slightly changed and a bit bastardized for the purposes of this fanfiction. NO infringement intended.**


	5. Unexpected Visits

**UNEXPECTED VISITS**

Donovan stood when he saw Emily approaching. He hadn't seen her in several months, but he still recognized her almost immediately. She was a petite redhead with an equally fiery temper and they had gone head to head more than once. Although their relationship and marriage had been a good one, she didn't take much static from anyone, and she wasn't afraid to tell him when she thought he was wrong about something. Ironically enough, the same qualities were present in Kayla as well. Strong women sometimes tended to turn men off, but he was drawn to them like the cliché moth to its equally cliché flame. Smiling now, he embraced Emily and they shared a brief hug before they took their seats. He was about to begin digging into her life, but she opened her mouth first.

"Okay, spill it, Frank. Who is she?"

Her green eyes were sparkling with mirth and she was grinning almost mischievously. He gave her a look that might have been bestowed upon someone who had flipped her lid. "Pardon?"

She kept her grin. "You heard me. Who is she? Tell me all about her. You're positively glowing."

He still hadn't changed his facial expression one tick. "I don't think men are supposed to _glow_."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother. Okay, so you're _beaming_. Is that better?" She sighed and propped her chin on her hand. "Now, tell me all about her," she repeated. "I know there has got to be a _her_. You're always so close-mouthed, Frank. I can't believe you haven't said something beforehand. You haven't even said anything to your mother, have you?"

"Em, my sedate social life should be the very last thing you would want to hear about," he said with a smile. "Yours, on the other hand, is quite the opposite of mine. Tell me about your boys, your husband, your new job."

She shook her head and laughed a little. "You are not going to dodge me on this one, Mister. Jeff, Brandon, and Brad are perfectly healthy and driving me mad. Nothing out of the ordinary for them. The new job is exactly what it is, a new job. I get to travel a lot more. That's about it. Now that that is out of the way, is there a woman making you so…_beamy_?"

He smiled. Her laugh had always reminded him of chipmunk chatter. When they were children, he often called her 'Chip.' "There is." He waited to see if she was going to say something else, but she didn't. "Her name is Kayla, and I've asked her to join us later."

444

As Frank Donovan began telling Emily as much as he knew about one Kayla Armstrong, Kayla Falcon stood in front of the mirror scrutinizing her reflection. Frank was expecting her in about forty-five minutes, but she couldn't make herself move away from where she stood. She had changed clothes about twelve times. Among many other things, Frank had told her about Emily, their past relationship, failed marriage, and continued friendship despite the breakup. It had all come about after a stormy afternoon that had seemed to never end. How long had Frank stayed with her? Hours? Kayla backed away from the mirror. The longer she stared at herself, the more she grew to hate what she saw there. Reflected in that cheap pane of glass was a liar, a thief, and probably worst of all, a bitch. She was all those things and more. Yet, there was even more. Oh yes. So much more. So much more that she couldn't even admit to herself because she had the feelings buried so deeply that she wouldn't allow them to see the light of day. Never. Or so she thought. They would see the light of day soon enough in the right situation. Today just wasn't the day. Kayla sat down on the foot of her bed and buried her face in her hands. How had it started? What brought it about? Oh yes. The dating.

One date had turned into two. Two had turned into four. It had progressed onward and before long, both Frank and Kayla realized that two months had passed. Within that two-month span, the two led separate lives when they weren't together, of course, such separate lives that neither would believe the incredulity of it if faced with it. Donovan and his team continued to work the Sideshow case, although they were virtually baffled by it still. Kayla, Carson, and their gang continued hitting bank after bank without so much as a hitch. They weren't idiots, they knew their time was coming, but they continued to work it as long as they could. However, the lying had gotten to Kayla. Steadily, she had been seeing Frank for two months. In that time, she grew more and more convinced that he was involved in some type of law enforcement. She saw no proof of that, and had never asked, but he carried a cell phone with him everywhere he went. Often, he would receive calls, and she would catch quips of things he said here and there. She didn't try to eavesdrop, but she would hear things regardless what she did. She never asked him, and she knew he wondered why she didn't. He probably thought she didn't care about his life. That was the thing. She did. She cared about every facet, but if he said the wrong thing, she couldn't see him. It was that simple. Whatever the case, she couldn't lie to him anymore.

On one night after a very late dinner date, which was more like early morning…_three _to be exact, he had brought her home, and kissed her good night at the door. Even after two months, she still hadn't had the guts to introduce him to Carson. In his eyes, in his beautiful eyes, she could see that he wanted to come in, that he wanted to take her to her bed and make love to her. God help her, she wanted him to so badly, but she couldn't. For days now, she had been putting him off, getting away by the skin of her teeth. They had had many heated moments in the last few days. If they had been in the right place at the right time, she would already know what it felt like to lie with him in his bed, but she hadn't put herself in that situation. She had been fighting strongly, but her strength was waning. Before long, she wouldn't be able to deny him. It was best to get away while she could. That early morning, he left her, promising to call, and she knew he would. However, she didn't take his calls. For a week or more, he called persistently, daily. She was half tempted to turn off her phone, but she couldn't do it. She listened to each message he left, listened to the confusion in his voice, and she would cry pitifully after she heard them. She kept telling herself this was the best way, but it definitely didn't feel like that to her heart. After a few days, the calls trickled down to nothing. She was finally convinced that he had given up. Although her heart was broken, she was relieved. It was over. He could go on and do whatever it was that he did, and she could finish her covert deeds with her brother before fading off into the fog. Through it all, she kept telling herself that it was the best thing for them both. She didn't know exactly how persistent Frank Donovan actually was until two weeks later.

Kayla had called in sick at work and was in bed when Donovan came knocking on the door. Carson had just gotten out of bed himself and wasn't fully dressed yet. Donovan was faced with a bare chested young man with long shaggy blond hair. Almost immediately, he felt a surge of jealousy. Was this young man the reason behind Kayla's sudden avoidance of him? He never once thought of this man being her brother.

"Can I help you," Carson said. He had never met Kayla's boyfriend and wasn't sure who this guy was.

Donovan shook away the urge to be as rude as possible. He knew nothing about the situation yet. He couldn't prove anything. "I want to speak to Kayla for a few minutes if she's here. I know she's not at work." He knew he had given just a little too much information away, but he couldn't help it. Regardless of who this man was, he deserved an explanation, and he wasn't leaving until he received one.

Carson nodded. This must be Frank the Stock Broker. For some reason, his sister had been giving this guy the cold shoulder. "You're Frank?" He watched as Donovan nodded almost distractedly. Carson did the unexpected. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Carson, Kayla's brother."

Instead of waking Kayla, Carson directed Donovan toward her bedroom, showed him inside, and then closed the door behind them. Kayla wasn't fully asleep, just dozing, and she thought her brother had decided to bother her. Yet, her nostrils detected the scent of different cologne in the air. Carson wasn't known to wear that brand. He wore something cheaper and more readily available. _No. It couldn't be_. Frank had been to the apartment building many times, but she had never brought him up. How would he know where she was? He wouldn't. She was just imagining things. Her asshole brother was messing with her mind. But why would he be so cruel? He knew how she felt about Frank and he wouldn't go that far to hurt her. Kayla turned over, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and sat up. Standing only a few feet from her bed was Frank. So many emotions were whirling within her at once and the mix nearly made her nauseous. He had finally met Carson. What if her brother had spilled the beans about her 'stock broker' lie? What if he had been working the specs for the next job on his laptop? What the hell was he doing here? Why had he come? Didn't the week without answering his calls give him enough of a hint? Didn't he understand that she didn't want to see him? What the hell was he thinking? How had he found her? Why had he even tried? Oh dear God was she glad to see him. If she wasn't so shocked, she might have gotten up and jumped into the big middle of him.

She was well covered by her ridiculous flannel pajamas, but she felt horridly underdressed as he gazed at her steadily. He was demanding an explanation without uttering a word. She knew what he was thinking. Two people didn't just see each other for eight weeks and then suddenly stop for no reason. There had to be something. Although she looked ridiculous, she didn't move from her spot on the bed. "What are you doing here? How did you find my apartment?"

"We can talk about that in a minute," he said calmly without moving one step toward her. "But first, I think I deserve an explanation. Why haven't you been taking my calls? Did I do or say something wrong? Is there someone else?"

Hurt literally dripped off each word that had come out of his mouth. It killed her hearing them. She shook her head. "No."

He moved suddenly, startling her. Before she knew it, he was down on his knees before her, his body placed snuggly between her thighs. "Then talk to me. Tell me what it is."

He was so close to her that it was nearly mind-boggling. Crazily enough, she felt the unwanted sting of tears in her eyes. _Damn you Frank Donovan_. Although touching him was something she didn't want to do, was something that was a very bad idea, she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek. His skin was warm and soft. She again wondered what the hell he was doing here. Didn't he have a job? "I didn't want to hurt you," she whispered. "I was scared. Sometimes, when I get exactly what I want, my reaction is to starting pushing before I'm pushed." How she longed to tell him the _real_ truth. How she longed to stop hurting him for good. "I'm sorry, Frank. I truly missed you. I've been absolutely miserable."

Something about her explanation seemed almost sugarcoated. Simple. There seemed to be more to it than what she was telling him. Yet, there was also so much of it that seemed sincere and true as well. He knew one thing. He couldn't lose her now. "Kayla, I'm crazy about you, and I want this to work. You don't know how much. You have to tell me. You have to talk to me. Don't shut me out."

She bit her lip. He didn't understand anything. She didn't want him to be crazy about her. Didn't he get it? But she couldn't fight it. It was too late. Much too late. The first day she met him was too late. "I want it, too. I do."

She pressed her lips against his and it only took him seconds to respond. He slipped his tongue between her sweet lips and allowed it to touch hers. He broke the kiss after several moments and allowed his lips to slide down to the slope of her throat. She threw her head back and plunged her hands into his soft black hair. His goatee was tickling her and she closed her eyes tightly against the sensation. He drew away after a moment to gaze up into her eyes. Her hands were still in his hair.

"You didn't tell me how you found me," she said.

"You're right, I haven't." He drew away from her altogether and sat beside her on the bed. He had been seeing her for two months, and had shared things with her that not many people knew. In fact, he had just confessed feelings hidden within his heart that he hadn't felt for another woman in years. Could he trust her? Did he trust his own heart? In both cases, the answer was yes. If he expected her to open up to him, he had to do the same. "In my line of work, it's not hard to find people I'm looking for. And it's about time I tell you. I swear I'm not giving you a line or further trying to impress you. I suppose there's no easy way to say it, but to blurt it out. I work with the FBI."

Immediately, her heart sank to her feet. He had told her something she had been dreading for weeks. This was news she had been expecting, but it was no less heartbreaking. He was a FBI agent? FBI? The very people trying to crack the gang she was a part of. She wondered if he was working their case. Was he? Was he after them? Why hadn't he told her this before she agreed to keep seeing him? This couldn't be true. She had finally been sent someone and he wound up being a goddamn FBI agent? Someone hell bent to send her and her brother to prison for the rest of their natural lives? Did it matter that he didn't know their motivation? God. She was going to lose her mind. _Please oh please, let him be kidding. Please_.

"F…BI," she sputtered. "And this is no joke?"

He nodded. "Yes, FBI, and it's not a joke. It's how I found your apartment number. I know I overstepped a few boundaries, but you were dodging me a little," he said with a smile. His smile faded just a bit when he noticed the slight shocked expression on her face. "Kayla, you're all right with this, aren't you?"

_No. I'm a wanted felon. Of course I'm not all right with it. What do you think_? "No, Frank, I'm fine with it. A little surprised, that's all." She would have to work at breaking off this relationship. Somehow. Some way. She only hoped Carson couldn't hear this. She would have to do this her own way. "What else do you know about me? The kind of grades I made in high school?"

She was trying to be flippant about it, but he knew he had hurt her. He ran his hand through her hair and tucked it behind her ear as she often did. "Nothing like that. I won't invade your privacy again, and for that, I'm sorry."

"It brought you here," she whispered. "And that's okay."

She was so sad, so unreachably sad, and he didn't know what he could do for her. He didn't understand, and he longed to. He kissed her and he felt their bodies drifting to her bed. He was intent on stripping her out of her pajamas and making love to her all morning long, had even begun working on undoing the buttons on her top, but she stopped him by grabbing his hand. He wanted her so badly, had yet to make love to her, and he knew she wanted him to, but she had resisted yet again. She had so much more strength reserved in her body than he did. He broke the kiss and gazed down at her curiously. She shifted her body slightly so that they could lie facing each other.

"I've called in sick," she said. "Do you have anywhere else to be?"

He propped his head on his hand and shook his head. "I took a personal day, but I have my phone. They'll call me if they need me." And he was certain they would. Since the Sideshow case had darkened his door, there were no such things as 'personal days' any longer. He expected an interruption at any time. However, he would milk as much time as possible.

"Good. I've told you almost everything about me. So, today, G-man, you talk to me as long as time allows you to." She reached out and took his hand. "Once you do that, next time, I might not stop you."

He spent the better part of the day with her, lying in her bed, just talking. It was only fair. After all, she _had _told him a lot about herself. He was grateful that his phone didn't ring once.

444

Kayla snapped out of her thoughtful reverie when she realized she had been daydreaming again. That day Frank had spent in her bed just talking to her had been a month ago. She glanced at her bedside clock. It was time to go. If she didn't move her ass, she would be late for lunch.

When Kayla approached the table, Frank and Emily were talking. The two of them were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice her. She realized that they were talking about her. She felt instantly awkward and wanted to leave, but it was too late. Frank noticed her. He made moves to stand and greet her, but she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't stand, please." She knew he probably wanted to kiss her, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to kiss him in front of his ex-wife. It wasn't that this woman threatened her, but she felt strange, out of place. _As I should. For God's sake, we're on different sides of the damn fence. Wake up and smell the Gatorade, Falcon_. "I'm Kayla," she said to Emily, extending her hand.

Emily smiled back at Kayla and took her outstretched hand. She immediately noticed how Frank looked at the young woman. The change in his demeanor was almost instantaneous and overwhelming. This man wasn't just _glowing _or _beaming _or whatever. She was pretty damn sure he was in love with her. "Very nice to meet you. Please sit."

Kayla stayed a little less than an hour. She apologized profusely, but she was expected back at the daycare center. Frank excused himself and saw her to her car. After a very long and proper goodbye, with a promise that he would call her later, he came back to the table and noticed that Emily was grinning at him.

"You were right about her, Frank. She seems to be a great girl. I see that you're more than just a little taken with her," she said.

For a moment, he wanted to deny it, to argue, but why? What purpose did it serve? Why in the hell did he want to fight it now? He had been resisting a relationship and deep feelings for another human being for so long. Wasn't it time to set himself free? "You caught me," he confessed with an almost guilty smile. "I'm truly crazy about her."

"And that's it," she prodded.

"What do you want me to say," he asked with an embarrassed laugh.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?"

He sighed. Wasn't he supposed to be the interrogator here? "I am."

"Have you told her yet?"

He shook his head. "I suppose you can say I'm waiting for the perfect 'wine and roses' moment."

444

While Frank was making his confession, Kayla was slowly making her way toward the daycare center. In her mind, she was trying to work out a way to break off her relationship with Frank. It was progressing to a level that she could no longer handle. He was beginning to insist that she meet people he knew, loved, and respected. She hadn't allowed him to make love to her, but it didn't matter, it was still going strong and getting stronger. What she was trying to deny was becoming more obvious by the day. She was beginning to have very sharply defined feelings for this man. _Cut the crap, Kayla. Just cut the crap_. She could fight it until she was blue in the face, but she had to face the facts. There was love in her heart for Frank Donovan and it shouldn't belong there. Her only choice, only option, was to get out while she could maintain her sanity. One question remained. How? _How_?

****

**To be continued…**


	6. The Sideshow, Part 2

**THE SIDESHOW, PART 2**

Kayla had worn the ridiculous freak show mask many times, but today, it seemed more stifling than ever before. She could hear Tom's voice in her ear, counting off the minutes, ticking off the time. She was responsible for watching the people in the bank while Carson did his thing with the money. It was part of the jobs she hated the most. The semi-automatic weapon she packed was mostly for show. She knew how to use it, but she didn't think she had ever fired it the entire time the gang had been robbing banks. She carefully walked the perimeter of the bank, slowly sweeping back and forth, waving the gun as she did it. The employees and patrons shrank away from her as she did so, and she felt like a heel. She wanted to tell them she wouldn't hurt them, but she didn't dare speak. Carson did all the talking. Speaking was a big 'no no' in his book. It was an identifier to him. God. She hated this. She hated this so much. She again reminded herself why she was doing this. There was a reason. A good one. And she had to stick to it.

Seconds before Tom's voice commanded them to move, Carson flew toward her. It was time to go. They dashed toward the exits as they normally did. They moved swiftly, but calmly. If they didn't, they risked leaving evidence behind. Tom was an electronics genius, and he had wired their van with some type of gizmo that would automatically open and shut the back doors. As they approached, the doors were open and awaiting them. Carson tossed in the burlap bags of money and the duo jumped inside the vehicle. There was no time to waste. By the time bank personnel summoned the police, they were well on their way back to Tom's house, where they would stow their gear, and divvy up the day's take. It was a set of mundane tasks that they performed after each heist. Carson insisted that they follow the same routine after each job. He was afraid that if they didn't, they would get caught. He wouldn't dare stray from the formula. He would rather die first.

Once she was certain they were lost amongst the mid-afternoon traffic, Kayla didn't hesitate to get rid of the mask. She ripped out the earpiece and left it dangling. For no reason at all, she broke down in tears. This wasn't her first job, of course, but it was the first she had done in several weeks, and she once again felt like a virgin. The stress of the situation had gotten to her, and she was sure she was going to lose her mind before the day was through. She wasn't an idiot; she knew what it was. She was thinking about Frank again. Since he had told her about his profession, she hadn't been sleeping well at night. It wasn't that she was afraid of getting caught or anything like that. It wasn't that she was afraid that Frank was working her case. She was afraid she was hurting him. Hell, she _knew _she was hurting him. The thing was, he didn't even _realize _she was hurting him. And the tricky part was, she couldn't let the bastard go. She had been wracking her brain for weeks now, trying to find a way to break up the relationship. She didn't have the guts to do it. Yet, she had to do it. There was no way around it.

After they arrived at Tom's, Kayla left the men to themselves. There were ten members of the gang. Tom and Carson were busily dividing the money equally. It didn't matter that only three of them did the job today, they shared their take evenly regardless who did what on which day. However, she didn't have the heart to join them. She had another mission in mind. She always brought along a change of clothes with her, and she excused herself to take a shower, but she didn't immediately set about that task. Instead, she locked herself inside Tom's bedroom and stared down at her cell phone. She dialed a number from memory and listened to the burring rings.

"Dora? It's Kayla," she said when the phone was picked up after three rings. "Is there any chance I can speak to Brett?"

**555**

The Sideshow had hit again. Donovan stood in the bank with his arms crossed over his chest. For a brief moment, he couldn't move. The only thing he could make himself do at that moment was stand and brood. Since the ordeal began, he had been doing a hell of a lot of brooding. Just a few minutes prior, he had been walking around, digging into the mess left behind, and interrogating the hell out of several shaken witnesses. Nothing. They knew nothing. All they did know was that their bank had been hit and a little over forty thousand dollars had been taken. No names had been mentioned amongst the two bank robbers, not even an uttered "Falcon." And as was the case with their MO, no one had seen them escape. Where the hell were they parking their getaway vehicle? They just weren't walking away from the scene. He had never felt so confused and ineffectual in his career.

There were others milling about: the police, other FBI agents, and members of the press. However, he wasn't paying attention to them. His mind was still stuck. Central had finally delivered on their promise of other bank videotapes. Almost obsessively, Donovan had studied them, having Cody play parts of them so many times, he complained about finger pain. It was obvious that there were different people at each job, but he was trying his damned best to see something, to find some little shred of evidence to give away their identity. He held onto the hope that Monica's profile of the robbers would hold out. _Somebody_ would make a mistake. They _had _to. Since there was no group to infiltrate for now, the team was basically sent in to assist their FBI brethren, but that didn't alleviate the pressure any of them were under. None of the leads they had worked to their advantage. Tracking down the sales of the carnival masks had yielded not one viable suspect. Of course, he hadn't expected anything less. Somehow, he had begun to take this assignment personally.

**555**

Kayla had finished her shower and was lost in her own thoughts when she heard a discreet knock at the door. Figuring it was Carson, she sighed heavily and tightened the towel about her body. She hadn't even gotten a chance to dress yet. Of course, she was a billion miles away. Getting dressed was an action as alien to her right now as standing on her head and barking. She approached the door, disengaged the lock, and swung it open. Her visitor wasn't Carson. It was Tom.

Kayla felt completely underdressed in front of Tom. What the hell did he want? "Do you mind," she asked pointedly. "I'm not dressed yet." She turned away, hoping that he would take the unspoken hint and leave. However, when she turned back around, he was still standing in the doorway. _What in the world did I ever see in this jerk_? "Where's Carson?"  
  
Tom took a few steps inside the room and allowed his arms to dangle at his sides. Any moment now, she expected him to rake his hand through his long hair. "He left for a minute to dole out the shares and to send a cashiers check to Dora."  
  
His brief mention of Dora immediately brought Brett to mind. She hadn't been able to speak to Brett for very long, but the time had been well worth it. Whenever she thought of Frank, of her betrayal of him, she forced herself to see Brett's face. Once that image was clear, the mission became important again. Yet, it still never failed to depress her. She sighed wearily. "I see." She glanced at her clothing laid out on the bed before focusing her eyes on Tom again. _Won't you go away and let me get dressed in peace_? "What do you want, Tom? I'd like to get dressed." _Take a damned hint already_.

"I know you were trying to hide it and all, but I heard you crying in the van," he began.  
  
She rolled a mental set of eyes. Was he trying to comfort her? _Dear Lord, give me strength. I don't want to laugh in his face_. Tom was a shallow egotist. He didn't care about anyone other than Tom. He had been a lousy boyfriend and she could barely tolerate him as a friend. Actually, she only put up with him because he and Carson got on so famously. If it weren't for her brother, she wouldn't even have him in the gang. "I appreciate your concern," she began, her voice almost taking on a cold edge. "But I don't think it's really any of your business."  
  
He moved another step closer to her. "You've really changed," he said. "This new guy is doing something to you, switching your gears."  
  
She shook her head incredulously. Had he dared to mention Frank? Had he dared to say something about a situation he not only didn't understand, but also didn't have a right to even _think_ about? Who was he to lecture her about her love life? He the consummate cheater. If she hadn't been so pissed off, she might have laughed. _Maybe there is something to this praying thing after all_. "Tom, my relationships truly aren't any of your business. I would appreciate it if you kept your nose out of it."  
  
Tom took another step toward her. She wanted to retreat in kind, but that would only make him think she was afraid of him. "Kay, I wouldn't have my nose in it if I didn't care. I thought you might give me another chance. No one knows you better than I do, especially not some hotshot stock broker who makes you cry."  
  
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was he _truly_ telling her she was better suited to him? Was that what she was hearing? Surely not. How she longed to tear into him. But she held back. The thing was, she _wasn't_ good enough for Frank Donovan. She _was_ better suited to a fellow thief. She didn't understand why all of this was so frustrating. Seeing someone, having a relationship, wasn't supposed to feel like this. Of course, her circumstances were a bit different than average. "Tom, if you recall, we tried once. You cheated on me during our entire relationship. Would you _please_ drop the subject and leave me alone? I'm telling you again, Tom, I would like to get dressed and you're keeping me from it."

Tom closed the distance between him and Kayla. Again, she had the desire to back away, to shrink from his touch. And again, she didn't act on that impulse. Instead, she stood her ground as Tom laid his hands on her bare shoulders. "Kay, I say these things because I care about you," he repeated. "I could be so much better for you than this Frank guy. All you have to do is give me another chance. That's all I'm asking."

She grew angrier and angrier. She had the greatest urge to kick him in the groin and then repeat the process on her brother when he returned. Why had Carson left her alone with this ass? He knew Tom. "I said no," she said slowly, severely. "Take your hands off me or you're going to feel my knee between your legs. I mean it, Tom. Don't touch me."

"I don't think you mean it, Kay. I really don't."  
  
The moment the words left his lips, he pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue immediately invading her. She tried to move to give him his promised kick in the groin, but he simply increased the pressure on her shoulders. Vaguely, she wondered if he had touched some kind of nerve inside her, because she was virtually immobile. She was afraid he was going to reach for her towel and strip her naked. Oh, but she _would not_ let that happen. Not in a million years. Struggling mightily now, she managed to free herself from his iron grip. Without hesitating, she kicked out with her leg, but her foot wound up connecting with nothing more than the firm meat of his thigh. She swore under her breath when she missed her intended target. Angered himself now, he drew back and backhanded her across the cheek. One thing was certain about Tom. He knew how to hit to hurt. She backed away from him and touched her cheek. She couldn't see it, but it was already reddening and painful. It would no doubt leave a bruise. Kayla was too angry to cry.

"You bastard," she snarled. "If you ever touch me again, I'll kill you."

"You've changed," he said with a smarmy grin. "Just like I said. You didn't mind my touch before, did you?"  
  
Without incident, he left her. Kayla quickly went to the door and locked it behind him. If he wanted to get back in, she would damn well make him work for it. Part of her wanted to tell Carson. Although a bit of a bastard himself, he loved her, and he wouldn't put up with Tom knowing that he had attacked her. However, another part just wanted to forget the whole thing happened. She could steer clear of him. After all, it wouldn't be her turn to work another job for several more weeks. She was horrified to realize that tears were swiftly streaking her face, falling onto her injured cheek.

**555**

It was early, but Kayla had lain down anyway. Her cheek and neck hurt like hell. She had taken painkillers for it, but it didn't dull the pain quite like she wanted or expected. Her brother had noticed the mark on her face, of course, but she hadn't told him what really happened. She made up an incredible lie about running into the door at Tom's house. She had unofficially decided to keep the _real_ story to herself. In the long run, she thought that telling the truth would do more harm than good. It might have the potential to break up the gang, and right now, they couldn't do that. They had to stay together for just a little while longer.

She had begun to feel halfway comfortable when she heard the doorbell ring. At first, she ignored it and decided to leave it to Carson. However, she soon remembered that Carson had stepped out to meet Tom and a few other members of the gang. The pain was messing with her, screwing up her memory. Groaning now, she sat up and reached for her robe at the foot of the bed. Shrugging into her robe, and griping all the while, she left the comfort of her bedroom. She approached the front door and stood on tiptoe to peek into the peephole. _What's he doing here_? What would she tell him about the mark on her face? Lying to Carson was easier than lying to Frank. _What are you saying? You've been lying to Frank every day since you met him_. She wanted to back away and hit the bed again, but she was certain he could probably see her through the peephole. He wouldn't understand if she didn't answer the door. She once again found herself wondering what he was doing here. Sighing heavily, she stepped back, took hold of the doorknob, and opened the door. The moment she had it open, he noticed the mark on her face.

"Frank, what are you doing here," she asked before he had the chance to open his mouth.

Without waiting for an invitation, he entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. Nonplussed, Kayla moved back a couple of steps. She wanted to turn away from him, but knew it wouldn't do any good. He would only pursue her, turn her back around to face him. He hadn't lied when he told her he was persistent. She kept her eyes averted for a few minutes, but she didn't keep it up. It was an evasive maneuver he would pick apart within nanoseconds. Of all the people she didn't want to deal with tonight, he was absolutely number one on her list.

He had begun the visit innocently enough. He had gone home after a seemingly endless day, and thoughts of her seemed to consume him. His work schedule hadn't allowed him time off to see her for a couple of days. Oddly enough, when he saw her after one of the heists, it always seemed to calm him down. He could never explain it. He wanted to tell her this, this among other things on his mind, but the moment he saw her face, the words dried up in his throat. He wasn't stupid or blind. He had seen enough in his career to know when one person had hit another. Besides, there were clear finger marks on her cheek. She didn't work in the best neighborhood in town, so things could happen.

"Kayla, what happened to your face," he asked when he finally found his voice.

It was stupid of her to assume that he wouldn't say anything. But he would because he cared about her. _Of course he would notice, you idiot_. At that moment, at her weakest, she wanted to confess everything. She wanted to tell him about the gang, the robberies, about Tom, the works. Yet, she didn't say a word. She was going to spin a lie to him, just as she had spun a lie to her brother. "My clumsiness prevailed again, Frank," she said with a nervous laugh. She was trying hard to make it sound embarrassed, but it didn't work. "I tripped, fell, and smacked into the sharp edge of a desk at work. Hurt like a bitch, but I'm fine."

With any other person, he would let the explanation go and move on to another subject, but not her. She was blatantly protecting him from something. "Desk edges don't leave behind finger marks. Who hit you? Who hurt you, Kayla?"

She gave up. She had to turn around. It wasn't such a smart idea, but there was no way she could face him right now. For no reason at all, she wanted to cry. She wanted to open her mouth and repeat the lie, but she couldn't. He didn't buy it the first time, and he surely wouldn't this time. "Is it okay if I don't want to talk about it?"

He approached her from behind and laid his hands on her shoulders. His nearness made her shiver. "No, it's not okay," he said. "But I won't push." Although he knew she didn't want to face him right now, he turned her toward him. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were shiny and her tears were threatening to spill at any second. "Day or night, you know I'm here for you. You know that, don't you? If you want to tell me, I'll do everything in my power to protect you. Remember that?"

She nodded. "I will."

Kayla wanted him to leave, but she was sure he wouldn't take the unspoken hint. In a way, she was glad he didn't. After a brief moment, she felt his lips claiming hers. Before long, their kiss deepened and he backed her into her bedroom. He worked his hands inside her robe and his large hands cupped her breasts. Her nipples strained against her sleep shirt and the hot flesh of his palms. She moaned against his lips as his hands moved upward to strip away her robe. She felt her body moving backward again and a moment later, the back of her legs connected with the side of her bed. There was a whirlwind of sensation and emotion going on here, and she seemed helpless to stop it.

He broke their consuming kiss and gazed down at her. Her injured cheek stuck out like a brilliant flame and he longed to find the person who hurt her. He would tear that individual apart. His hand came out and rested against her cheek. His thumb traced a very delicate line over the mark that marred her pretty face. "I want to make love to you, but I can see that tonight may not be an ideal time."

"No," she whispered. "It's not. I'm sorry."

He kissed her gently. "Don't be." He took her hand and led her back in the living room toward the front door. He gave her another gentle kiss. "Call me if you need me."

She nodded. "I will."

He let himself out and left Kayla standing. She made up her mind. The next time they were together, she was breaking it off. She couldn't stand this any longer. She had come close…very close…to allowing him to make love to her. She knew that if she allowed that to happen, she would never let him go.

****

**To be continued…** __


	7. A Night To Remember

**A NIGHT TO REMEMBER**

Kayla sat up on the side of the bed. The sun had just begun to rise and rays of light were peeking into the open bedroom curtains. She leaned down and snagged a shirt off the floor. She stood and slipped into the shirt, buttoning it up about three quarters of the way. She walked over to the window and watched the sunrise. If she were any other person on this day, she would be feeling terrific, sated, happy, or elated. But not her. Not on this day. She didn't go back to the bed, but remained in front of the window. However, she did turn to briefly gaze at the sleeping man who had, as of last night, gone from being a boyfriend to a lover. He seemed to be sleeping very soundly. They had drifted off on top of the covers last night and he didn't have a stitch of clothing on. He had fallen asleep before her, and she had spent hours gazing at him. He was complicated, slightly untouchable, but he was also almost…vulnerable. It was something she had learned about him not long after she began seeing him steadily. At that thought, the guilt attacked her again. She focused her eyes on the window once more. When he had called her yesterday morning and invited her over to his place, she had every intention of taking the opportunity to break off their relationship face to face. She had finally convinced herself that she had the courage to do it. However, it hadn't quite worked out that way.

**666**

Kayla had been to Frank's house only a couple of times, but she found her way easily enough. Although Frank had offered to pick her up, she had insisted on bringing her car. It was old and rickety, but it would make the trip. Besides, after their conversation, she would need it to go back to her apartment. She didn't intend on staying any longer than an hour or so. It wouldn't take very long to say what needed to be said to finally end it. She had vowed to break it off the night he left her after Tom struck her, but she let it ride three more weeks. In between both their hectic schedules, they managed to see each other, increasing the pain, increasing the opportunities for them to get too close. Kayla played it well. She fought off his advances, giving him all kinds of excuses, all of which he accepted. She hated herself for dragging it out. But it was so hard. She loved him, though, and that was the hardest part of it all. It was why she couldn't let go so easily. Her choices were nil. It was now or never. She could live with a broken heart. She couldn't deal with betrayal. She wouldn't do that to Frank.

Since this was only her second time to come to his place, she was still awestruck by the sheer size and beauty of the house. Although there wasn't a beach within miles and miles of here, the architecture reminded her of something she might see on the coast, or in a more exotic location overseas. There was a lot of glass, sliding doors, and an amazing deck that dominated the back of the house. She recalled the inside was even more impressive than the outside. There were only two floors, but the interior had open ceilings, a loft-like appearance, and a magnificent spiral staircase. Even the furniture had a Mediterranean flavor. The colors were dark, rich blues, shades of deep maroon, and sandalwood. The floors were hardwood and shiny. She hated to think about the maintenance those floors required. She had yet to venture upstairs, but she was avoiding that. His bedroom was up there, and she wasn't going in that room even if her life depended on it. It was easier fighting him off on her turf. The game wouldn't be so easy on his. They both knew that. They had met dozens of times in public, and he had chased her down at her apartment on more than one occasion. Heated moments had been shared, but she had always had the advantage, the upper hand. Today would be tricky, but she thought she could pull it off. She had to. Again, she knew she had no other choice.

Frank met Kayla at the door. He was barefoot, dressed down in faded blue jeans and a button down shirt that seemed to have seen better days. It didn't matter. He looked absolutely gorgeous. She had to remind herself that she wasn't here to be with him today. She was here to end this relationship once and for all. He didn't give her a chance to speak. Instead, he took her hand, tugged on it impatiently, and led her through the living room, into the kitchen, and then out on the back deck. Just beyond the deck was a small man made lake. She had seen it before, and loved it, but it was never like this. The romantic bastard had set up a cozy picnic for two. She couldn't believe that he had done this for them. Not today. Of course, he didn't know she had breaking up on her mind. She vaguely wondered what _he _had on _his_. It truly didn't take much analysis. She again found herself thinking that she was at a disadvantage today. Her first time here had been brief. She had made sure of it. However, today, he intended for her to stay for a while. Perhaps he intended for her to stay all night. _But we won't let that happen. Will we, Kayla_? She wanted to turn away and run back to her car. But she couldn't do it. She had come here today with one mission in mind, and she had to carry it out. No matter what, she had to do it. She hated thinking the same damn thought over and over again, but it was unavoidable.

Whatever was swimming through her mind, she allowed him to lead her out to the checkered blanket spread out on the grass. Together, they lowered themselves down and she watched as Frank reached for a bottle of red wine. With a pang, she noticed it was her favorite brand. He was doing everything in his power to please her. He didn't realize he didn't have to try so hard. But it was breaking her heart. Oh dear Lord, was it breaking her heart. She promised herself that after one glass of wine, she would cut the shit and break it off. One glass. After that, she would do it.

Kayla drank her wine, and then drank another glass. She and Frank shared their meal of cold chicken, potato salad, biscuits, and pumpkin pie. Throughout it all, she didn't say a word about breaking off their relationship. In fact, they didn't speak much at all. They gazed at the lake while Kayla made a few stupid comments every now and then about the ducks that came to mess around in the water. She noticed how Frank laughed at her words, but he was watching her carefully. He had been doing it since the night he saw the finger marks on her face. She knew he wanted to push the issue with her, but he didn't. He hadn't mentioned it again since he left her that night, but the question was always hidden beneath the surface. There was more to it, more he wanted to know, but he wouldn't force her to give him the story. She appreciated the hell out of that, but she often longed to tell him. She often longed to tell him many things. She thought that maybe if she told him what was going on, they could still have something together, could still _be _together, but it was a foolish schoolgirl fantasy. Sour. Bitter. Loathsome. She hated it. She could feel his eyes on her, and she fought like mad to keep the tears at bay. It was today…this moment…that she wanted to remember for the rest of her life. There would be none other like it ever again.

After they finished their meal, they began cleaning up the mess, carrying their trash and leftovers back into the house. While Frank finished up in the kitchen, Kayla stayed in the living room and seated herself on the sofa. She tried to offer assistance, but he refused. She poured herself another glass of wine for courage. She needed it. Time was wasting. She should have spoken sooner. Should have told him when she first arrived, but she didn't. She had once again let it ride. She tentatively sipped at her wine until she saw Frank exiting the kitchen. At that point, she turned up her glass and killed it. Frank came around to the sofa, watching her amusedly, and sat down beside her. His closeness was completely unnerving. She was sick and nervous, feeling almost weak in the knees. What had she been thinking when she came here? She was planning the big break up, while all along, he was setting up their first night together. She had to find a way out of this. She had to find a way to escape. Why hadn't she thought to ask Carson to call her or something? Damn it. Why hadn't she planned ahead? _Because you wanted this to happen. That's why, Sweets_. No. She had wanted nothing to happen. She had only wanted to tell him it was over so she could return to her insane life. _Stop kidding yourself, Sweets_.

As she set the glass aside, she knocked it over, making one hell of a loud clanking sound. The damn glass seemed to bounce forever. She quickly grabbed it and righted it before it could roll onto the hardwood floor and shatter. The 'amazing bouncing glass trick' actually gave her an out. "God, Frank," she said, sighing. "Maybe I should leave before I actually break something."

She had actually made moves to stand, but he reached out to her and took hold of her wrist. Once she settled back against the cushions, she gazed up at him with a confused look on her face. She opened a door, had a clear exit, and was ready to vacate, but he stopped her. _Damn it. What is this_? She wanted to shrink back from his eyes. His gaze was hungry, passionate, dark, and smoky all at the same time. The mix was delicious, but scary. Crazily enough, she felt her lower lip begin to tremble. _Don't do this to me. Please don't do this to me_. Coming here had been a horrible, horrible mistake. She didn't know if she had the guts to fight him away right now, not with him looking at her like he was.

"Kayla, it's okay. You don't have to be nervous."

His words startled her. "Wh-what," she mumbled.

Without giving her a chance to say another word, his lips claimed hers. She felt his body pushing hers toward the sofa, and she desperately wanted to fight him off, but she couldn't. This was one battle she was going to lose. Somehow, they managed to get their bodies fully onto the sofa without breaking the kiss. His hips were nestled snuggly between her thighs and her legs were tangled within his. He was so close to her, so mind numbingly close that she thought she might lose her mind. She felt every line of his body, even through his clothing, and the sheer _maleness _of him was completely overwhelming. Had any other man ever done this to her? Had any other man evoked such strong feelings from so deeply within her heart? She didn't think so. Not ever.

After several long moments, he broke the kiss. Breathing heavily now, he gazed down at her, his eyes half-lidded and sexy. "Kayla, you're driving me crazy," he whispered. "I want you so much. Stay with me tonight. Make love with me."

Still holding on to the hope that she could talk her way out of this, she tentatively whispered back, "Is it too soon in our relationship for this?"

"No, Kayla, it's not," he said. "I think you know that." He kissed her lips very gently and delicately ran the back of his hand over the cheek that had once held angry finger marks. "What is it that you're afraid of? Will you ever let me in? Will you ever let me touch that?"

"You are in and you have touched it. You don't even know it," she whispered.

She hadn't meant to say that, but the words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could prevent it. She didn't know why, but it felt as if it was something he wanted to hear, something that may have _touched _him in one way or another. He kissed her hard and deeply, pressing his lower body into hers, ensuring that she knew how obvious his desire was. There was a protest just waiting to burst out of her mouth, but it was being very effectively swallowed by his insistent kiss.

He broke the kiss after several long minutes and slowly pulled away from her. She once again had an out, but she didn't take it. He took her hand and helped her off the sofa. Reminding her of his actions earlier, he tugged on her hand with the same type of impatience, beckoning her to follow him. He led her up the spiral staircase to his bedroom. When she saw the inside of it, her jaw nearly dropped open. Several large candles lighted it. She wanted to cry, but she was too shocked to produce the tears. Her hunch had been absolutely correct. He had been planning this all along, and she was basically his for the asking. She didn't want to think of it as something she had done on purpose. Instead, she wanted to lie to herself, making herself believe that she had fallen right into his capable hands. That way, it wouldn't make her heart hurt as much. But she was no innocent. For the first time since she arrived, she realized she had taken a step that could no longer be reversed.

"When did you have time to do this," she whispered wonderingly.

Noticing her misty eyes, he smiled down at her gently, teasingly. "I'll never tell."

He kissed her again, but did so softly and briefly. She watched as he drew away from her to approach a portable CD player resting atop a chest of drawers. He hit 'play' on the small stereo and a familiar song began to play. She smiled a little and shook her head when she realized it was the song they had danced to on their first date. Until that moment, she never understood how much of a true romantic he actually was. It was something completely unexpected, but so very welcome.

When he approached her again, his kiss was immediate, passionate, and consuming. She was completely lost within it. His hand came up and his fingers began to work loose the buttons on her blouse. He hadn't yet touched one single spot of exposed flesh, but her skin broke out in thousands upon thousands of chill bumps anyway. She stood motionless as he worked his hands inside her opened blouse, gently pushing it off her shoulders where it slid down her arms, and drifted effortlessly onto the floor. He broke the kiss so his lips could travel along the slope of her throat and down onto one shoulder. She closed her eyes tightly, finding herself raising her hands and plunging them into his hair. But she only kept that stance for a moment because his large hands began to wander again. She felt them move to the front of her bra, and a moment later, she heard the faint 'snap' of the clasp giving way. Although there had been many heated exchanges between them in the past, he had never touched her bare flesh. When his touch finally came, a slight tortured moan left the depths of her throat. He touched her very briefly, allowing his hands to move further down to the snap and zipper of her jeans. She was already breathing heavily, her chest heaving almost dramatically. With the same deliberate slowness he had exhibited since they set foot in his bedroom, he opened the snap on her jeans and drew down the zipper. His forefinger just barely touched her lower abdomen, but it was enough to send another dozen score of chill bumps to rush to the surface of her skin. She knew she should be helping him with this task, but she also had the distinct impression that he wouldn't accept assistance of any kind. He tugged at her jeans, pulling them and her silken panties down past her hips. Once they were past the swell of her buttocks, they slipped effortlessly down her legs. After she kicked off her slip-on sandals, she was able to step out of the discarded clothing. She did so almost awkwardly. She stood completely nude before him, with him having every single stitch of clothing still on his body. There was nowhere to run or hide.

His hand came up to her cheek and he kissed her lips ever so gently. "You're beautiful," he whispered to her. "Absolutely beautiful."

There was still a protest just waiting to burst forward. It didn't matter that he had effectively stripped her down. She thought there was something she could do to get out of this. She was an idiot. "Frank," she said, her voice somewhat shaky now. What had she wanted to say? It was gone now. Forgotten.

As if sensing she wanted to protest, he kissed her again to prevent the words from flooding out of her mouth. She felt her body moving, and it was like some type of intimate waltz he was leading. Instead of taking her to a dance floor, he was guiding her toward his bed.

Kayla forced her brain to work and body to move. Her hands came up and reached for the buttons on his shirt. He didn't stop her. He broke the kiss and his eyes locked with hers as she began to open his shirt. Once every button was released, a slice of irresistibly delicious dark flesh was revealed. She ran her finger over that strip of skin. It was warm and soft. She hesitated only a moment before she worked the shirt open, pushing it over his muscled shoulders, and down his long, equally muscled arms. Her hands roamed his chest before moving lower to his upper abdomen. She reveled in the smooth perfection of his skin, marred here and there by various scars of different sizes. She longed to ask him how he came to have these scars, but now wasn't the time for small talk. Her hands stopped at the front of his jeans and her fingers began to work open the buttons on his fly. Throughout it all, they maintained eye contact and she was a little surprised when he swooped in for another deep kiss. It didn't stop the progress she was making. During the consuming kiss, she had finished with all those annoying buttons and finally had his jeans open. Her hands slid along his sides and slipped down into his jeans. She broke the kiss, allowing her lips to travel along his neck, and then down to his chest as her hands worked to free him from his clothing restraints. Leaning his head back just a bit, he closed his eyes as he felt her working down his jeans and briefs at the same time. When he opened his eyes and looked down at her, she was on one knee before him. Her warm breath puffed in and out…so close…so very close. Yet, her mouth didn't quite touch him where he thought it would. It traveled along the top of one thigh, moved up and across his lower abdomen where it finally settled on his chest again as she brought her body up to her feet once more.

With his hungry eyes consuming her, she moved a few inches back from him and to the side, giving him room to step away from the discarded garments. She went down to the bed first and he came after. After so long a time, they were finally skin against skin. He kissed her lips very gently before allowing his lips to venture lower onto her throat. She arched her back ever so slightly when his mouth found the valley between her breasts. She closed her eyes tightly as his lips encircled one erect nipple. His tongue teased the hardened peak almost mercilessly. She thought she might lose her mind if he didn't stop. He gave her a very short respite that ended when his lips attacked the other nipple. Her hands lay limply at each side of her head as his mouth moved lower, trailing further down onto her abdomen. Like an idiot, she could do nothing more than allow him to have his way with her. Her body was literally on fire. Each touch and kiss had awakened every nerve ending she had. When his lips touched the inside of her thigh, her body wound itself up tight, like an overwrought spring. Dear God. What was he doing to her? When release came, she honestly didn't know if she could handle it.

He moved his body upward, placing gentle kisses upon her flesh along the way. Her skin tasted sweet and felt heavenly against his. He longed to spend the night simply touching her, tasting her, but his strength reserves were zero to none. He knew she was tense, but he was also aware that it wasn't a negative sensation. He wondered how she would feel if he simply ended the game right here and now, making love to her without touching her further. He had often been told and believed that he was all about control, but tonight with this woman, no such thing existed within his personality or in his vocabulary. His lips found hers again and he pressed his body against hers, immediately noting that hers came up to meet his. He broke the kiss and gazed down into her beautiful eyes. So many words came to the surface, but none of them were voiced. Her hand came up to rest against his cheek briefly and it drifted downward. Her touch was light, but urgent, her own need was clear to him.

"I want you so much," she whispered. "I think I might lose my mind if you don't come inside me now."

It was as if she had read his thoughts and was giving him the answer he sought. Maybe she had. He entered her slowly, taking his time, reveling in the sensation of their first intimate contact. As he began to move within her, her entire body seemed to envelope his, and she dug her nails into his back, holding onto him for dear life as if she were afraid he would disappear. If he had had doubts about being in love with her before, they were now effectively quashed. He knew, saw, felt, and believed it, but every move of his body transmitted it into the timeless act of their lovemaking.

After, they lay tangled together. It was very still in the room and the light from the candles had all but died out. Donovan thought Kayla might have drifted off to sleep, but a soft noise drew his attention right away. It almost sounded like the quiet sobs of a small child. He shifted his position slightly so that he could look at her. There was a stream of tears falling from her eyes.

"Kayla, what is it," he asked softly. "Did I…did I hurt you?"

"No," she said quickly. "Not at all. It's just that no one has ever made love to me like you did tonight. No one has ever made me feel like this."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her how she felt, but he hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. "It's the same for me."

"I'll never forget this night as long as I live."

Her words confused him a little. It made him immediately think of a relationship dying instead of flourishing like this one was. There were still so many things she held captive within her heart. "Kayla…"

She didn't give him the opportunity to finish his thought. She kissed him deeply, cutting off his words. Right now, he didn't understand her words, but she feared he would soon enough.

**666**

Kayla gasped aloud when she felt the solid wall of Frank's body pressing against her back. She had been so entranced by her thoughts of the night before, that she hadn't even heard him getting out of bed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the side of her neck. After a moment, he unbuttoned the shirt and slid his hands inside. The instant his large hands cupped her breasts, she sighed shakily.

"I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed, but you spoiled my surprise by getting up before me," he said, his voice low and sexy.

She smiled a little. "Sorry about that."

He turned her toward him and kissed her deeply. When he broke the kiss, he took hold of the shirt by its lapels and opened it a bit wider. He again graced her with a hungry, consuming gaze. "Why don't we make love and I bring you brunch in bed?"

She had opened her mouth to protest, but before she could utter a word, his cell phone rang. He drew away from her reluctantly and went to retrieve the phone. Kayla buttoned the shirt, thinking, _saved by the bell_. After last night, she couldn't just walk away. Her chance had come and gone. She watched Frank curiously as he spoke on the phone, his voice hushed and controlled. She noticed that he had managed to slip into a robe. It was obvious by his facial expression and body language that play time was over. After a few minutes, he hung up and approached her. There was an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Duty calls," she said lightly.

He nodded. "Unfortunately." He reached out to her and caressed her hair. "Can I see you tonight?"

She wanted nothing more than to tell him no and then get on with her life, but she couldn't. God help them both, but she couldn't spare either of them one ounce of upcoming guilt or pain. Was it the love she felt for him, or just plain hedonistic selfishness? "Yes."

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I hate leaving you like this." He took her hand. "I must hit the shower. Join me?"

It was another thing she should have denied him, but there was no way. She didn't give him an answer. She simply allowed him to lead her into the bathroom. Kayla left before Frank did, and on the way back to her apartment, she had to pull over. She was suddenly assaulted by an awesome wave of regret. It wasn't regret over spending the night with Frank, of allowing him to make love to her. It was the regret of dragging him deeper into her web of lies. She again realized there was no escape. None at all. She was trapped now. Trapped by her love for one man.

****

**To be continued…**


	8. Complications

**COMPLICATIONS**

Kayla pulled her car into her accustomed slot at the apartment building. Already feeling down, her mood darkened when she recognized Tom's car parked next to Carson's motorcycle. She wasn't sure why Tom would be here so early. The gang wasn't due to meet for another two or three days. She had no time to deal with either man. Knowing she couldn't delay this any longer, she left her car and made her way toward the building. She had no idea what she expected to find once inside the apartment. The thing was, she didn't know why she cared. She was an adult and could do whatever the hell she wanted. Yet, it was more complicated than that, and she knew it. Most relationships didn't involve a felon and a FBI agent as lovers. This wasn't a typical situation. Perhaps her brother and Tom had somehow found out she lied about Frank's line of work. She pushed herself ahead and made her way to the apartment. Just outside the door, she could hear music, but didn't hear them talking. If luck was with her, maybe neither of them was there. Maybe one of the other gang members had picked them up and taken them somewhere else. But that didn't make sense, either. With the exception of Tom, none of the gang members associated much right before a job. It was Carson's rules. Keeping them all separate would hold down the suspicions. She tried the door and it was unlocked. Steeling herself, she opened the door and entered the living room. She could see that Carson and Tom were seated at the small kitchenette table with Carson's laptop between them. Apparently, they had decided to have a meeting about something without inviting her. She didn't know if she was relieved or angry about it. She decided to ignore the men, and she turned to walk toward her bedroom. Before she closed the door, Carson inserted his body into the doorframe.

"You're a big girl now and it's none of my business," he began. "But I think you're getting way too serious with this guy, and your absence here last night truly reinforces that idea. He's a stock broker and that's innocent enough, but he's still outside the fold. Anything he finds out has the potential to hurt us. Regardless of how this guy feels about you or how you feel about him, he could easily go to the cops and spill anything he learns. I know you won't rat us out or anything, Kay, but what if something slips? What if this guy sees me working on my laptop? What if he decides to come here when we're meeting with the gang? There are a dozen scenarios that could unfold here. I think you should cool it for a while, at least until we have what we need."

Kayla sat on the side of her bed and stared down at her feet. She vaguely wondered how much of this was Tom's doing. Her brother's speech might have meant something to her yesterday before she left to see Frank. But this morning, after a night of lovemaking, it meant nothing. Of course, she was kidding herself. It probably wouldn't have meant anything two weeks, or even two months ago. He would certainly flip out once he learned the truth about Frank's true occupation. Perhaps he might become enraged enough to strangle her. She had two options. She could spin a lie and tell Carson what he wanted to hear, or she could go out on a limb and try to tell the truth for a change. "I know we have to think of Brett first and foremost," she said. "But I honestly don't know if I _can _cool it. It is getting serious, Carson, and I'm not sure that I can do anything to calm it down." She raised her head and looked at her older brother. "I don't even know if I _want _to cool it now." Kayla stood and walked to the corner of the room. She had to get away from his moss green eyes. They were boring into her, almost accusatory. "We have to do this for Brett, but I want out, Carson. I want to find another way to do this. I just want out."

"You're not thinking of Brett at all. You are focused on some selfish little game here, Kay. This has never been about you or your love life, and I think you've forgotten that since you started seeing this guy. You don't have to stop living because of what's going on with Brett, but you shouldn't let it make you lose focus and forget her, either. Cool down this relationship and bring your focus back where it belongs. The gang needs you. Brett needs you. I hate to break it to you, but there is no out. Once you accept that, you'll realize that putting some distance between you and this guy is exactly what you need. After a few more jobs, we'll have all the money that we need to give to Dora. This will be over, Kayla, and you can do whatever you want with this guy, whether it's seeing him, living with him, or even marrying him. I don't care what you eventually wind up doing with this relationship in the long run, just do this one thing that I ask for right now."

Kayla said nothing. She simply stood in the corner of her room and gazed blankly at her brother. After he finished his speech, he turned away from her and left her alone. She immediately went to her door, and just before she shut it, she could hear Tom asking Carson what she intended to do. _The bastard_. She couldn't lay all the blame on Tom, of course, but she was certain the two men had been discussing this very conversation hours before she came home. She closed her door and engaged the lock. There was no way she wanted either of them to disturb her for the rest of the day. Kayla went back to her bed where she plopped down and began to stare at the ceiling. She wasn't so sure she could honor her brother's request now. She had been trying for weeks to put some distance between her and Frank. How well had that worked out? Not very damn well at all. Last night was a prime example of that. If it could have been done, she would have succeeded the night before. Since she had failed so miserably then, there was no reason to believe that she could do it now. If Frank had only given up when she stopped returning his calls, she wouldn't be in this situation. Why had he been so damn persistent? He was unlike any man she had ever met, and she knew she couldn't cool down shit. She thought of playing the avoidance game again, but he would only pursue her, and she would give right in to him. Just like she did before. She bit her lip and bit it hard. She was very close to telling Frank about Brett and the bank jobs. The craziness had to end some way, but she didn't know how to do it. She again wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into. She turned to her side and reached for her handbag. She dug around for her cell phone. She felt the need for another short conversation with Brett. It always seemed to center her and calm her down. No matter what her brother said or thought, Brett never left her mind for one moment.

**777**

The instant Donovan pulled his black truck into his long, sloping driveway, a small smile played on his lips. Kayla's car was sitting underneath the carport. Before she left this morning, he had given her his extra house key and asked that she come over and wait for him if he wasn't home. He was glad that she had decided to come, and even more so that she stayed. Some how, some way, tonight he would tell her how he felt about her. He had vowed last night not to say anything that would scare her away, but after seeing her car tonight, and knowing that she had come to him was enough to push him forward. He wasn't oblivious. The emotion between them last night was much too intense for her not to feel something for him. It was a frightening prospect, but it was time to speak up. It was true that he had no intention of scaring her, but he also didn't want to lose her, either.

The small smile that he had had since he killed the engine on his truck grew a little wider when he laid eyes on Kayla. From the looks of things, she had been here for a while. Her beautiful honey blonde hair was tied back into a loose ponytail and she was clad in one of his shirts. He wasn't afraid to bet that she had on nothing else underneath. That thought alone sent him reeling. However, it wasn't the only thing she had done that caused the sensation to attack him. The dining room table he rarely used outside an occasional get together was set perfectly for two. She had found a silver candleholder that he hadn't used since he moved into this house. The candlelight cast a warm glow over the place settings and the delicate champagne flutes already filled with sparkling liquid. She had somehow managed to find those fancy dinner plate covers that he had only seen in snobbish uptown restaurants. She had gone to great lengths to do this for him, and he suddenly forgot all about the trying day he had had at the nest. The bank robberies and the Sideshow were gone from his mind. For now, none of it existed. None of it. He could deal with that another day.

He approached her from behind and laid his hands against her hips. "What are you up to," he asked before placing a moist kiss on her ear.

"Let me go and I'll show you," she said with a smile.

Reluctantly, he stepped back from her and she turned toward him. Taking his hand, she led him to the dining room table and motioned for him to sit down. When he took a seat, she unceremoniously plopped down onto his lap. He absolutely didn't mind the closeness. Tonight, she smelled like roses. It was driving him a little crazy. Unable to help himself, he kissed her, and had every intention of deepening the kiss, of progressing it further, but she broke it before he could press forward. Mystified, he gazed up at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed her forefinger over his lips.

"You must eat the dinner I prepared for you first," she said. She reached over and took hold of the plate cover sitting before him. Lifting it up with flourish, she smiled widely. "_Voila_."

It was a full plate of chicken and dumplings. He laughed out loud. He couldn't resist. "You certainly know how to amaze me, Kayla." His eyes met hers and he kissed her again. He managed to undo a few buttons toward her middle and he slipped his hand inside the space he created. Her skin immediately broke out in chill bumps. He broke the kiss, but kept his hand inside the shirt, gently caressing her skin. "You think if you cover up the plate again, it'll stay warm for a little while?"

She nodded. "I'm sure it will," she whispered. "If not, we can always nuke it."

**777**

His body still shuddering from mind-bending release, Donovan's lips drank in the tiny droplets of moisture from Kayla's breasts. His lips teased the hardened peaks of her delectable nipples. She was astride him and had her hands plunged into his hair. Her eyes were closed and she breathed heavily. Her body was quivering as she recovered from one of many releases. He was still buried deeply inside her and she was in no big hurry to move. She thought she could stay like this forever. It wouldn't bother her at all. She felt his lips move upward and she threw her head back a little to give him access to her throat. As his lips and teeth assaulted her delicate skin, his hands slid to each side of her body. They moved up and down slowly, gently. Every now and then, they made contact with the side swell of her breasts.

He was suddenly overwhelmed by emotion and he could stay silent no longer. "Kayla," he whispered against her neck. "I love you."

She heard every word clearly, but somehow, it didn't quite connect. She moved back a bit and gazed down at him. Stupidly, she asked, "What did you say?"

He focused his eyes on her confused face. "I said I love you."

He was gazing at her with the same hungry look he had in his eyes the first time he made love to her. Dear God. Didn't he get it? She didn't want him to love her. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Then again, what exactly had she expected to happen? Did she think this was some animalistic fling that would die as soon as they became bored with each other? Was that what she thought? No. It wasn't what she thought at all. She remembered her earlier conversation with Carson. Distance. He had wanted her to put distance between them. He damn well wouldn't get his way now. He was waiting patiently for a response, any response, even a negative one. The silence was deafening. She could hear the frantic beating of their hearts.

Kayla laid her hands on his face. She wasn't aware what she was going to say until the words came tumbling out of her mouth. "I love you, too."

He leaned up and kissed her deeply. His hands went to the small of her back and she felt her body drifting down onto the bed. When he broke the kiss several moments later, he gazed at her. "How about those dumplings," he asked comically.

"I thought you'd never ask."

After they ate their late night dinner, Kayla gathered her things and made ready to leave. Donovan watched her with amusement sparkling in his eyes. She was still wearing his shirt, but had donned her own jeans. He stopped her before she grabbed her car keys. It was already past midnight and she had a long drive back to her apartment. He took hold of her hand and drew her into his embrace. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? You won't be back home for almost an hour. It's already very late."

"Tempting offer," she said. "But I have to work tomorrow and that would be an even longer drive in the morning." Part of what she told him was the truth. However, there was a bit of deception thrown into the mix. Of course. As always. If she stayed with him all night, her brother would know that she hadn't mentioned one word about 'distance.' "I hate traffic," she commented lightly. "I'll call you when I get back so you know I'm still alive."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but the words died in his throat. What he was thinking was too much. Telling her he loved her was one thing. The other bit he had on his mind was something different altogether. "Will you at least let me walk you to your car?"

She smiled. "I'll consider that."

Once Kayla was safely inside her car, Donovan turned and went back into the house. She watched him until he was out of sight, and then she reached for her keys. She had no idea that she was being watched.

Tom had seen almost everything that transpired between them when they came outside. He had tried to get closer to the house to find out exactly what was going on, but he was afraid of being discovered. What he didn't need was the cops bearing down on his ass, especially considering his status in the gang. He clearly saw the long, lingering kiss outside Kayla's automobile. He tried to shrug it off, but the two of them together like that made him seethe with anger. It was too dark to make out any features of the guy, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing. He had to get moving before Kayla pulled her car out of the driveway. He hoped that the dude inside wouldn't get wise right away, not until he was finished with her.

Kayla slowly backed out her car until it was at the bottom edge of the driveway. When she stopped to look for oncoming traffic, she heard a sharp rapping against her window. Startled, she whipped her head around, half expecting to see Frank. But whom she saw wasn't even _close _to Frank. It was Tom. Damned asshole Tom. Before she had the chance to engage the door lock, he grabbed the handle and swung it open. Without thinking, she jammed the car in park, wishing for a moment that she had let the car finish rolling down the hill. Perhaps it would have dragged Tom along with it. What the hell was he doing here? He didn't give her time to react or say a word. His hand was on her arm and he was forcefully dragging her out of the car.

"What the hell are you doing now, Tom? _Stalking _me," she bit out angrily.

"Your brother asked me to follow you tonight," he told her, lying through his teeth. Carson had asked no such thing, but it was good cover. He had eavesdropped on their conversation earlier. "I don't think he trusts you much, Kay. And from what I saw tonight, I guess you gave him good reason. What say we go inside now and tell your new lover boy what you do to supplement your income? I'm sure the big time stock broker would _love _to hear that." His grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly. "Or we could work something out between us, Kay. I'd keep my mouth shut if you dump the guy now and give me another chance like you should."

"You bastard," she spat through clenched teeth. "Blackmail me all you want, you're not going to get anything from me. Let me go so I can go home. If you don't, I'll tell my brother about this and you'll be out on your ass. I don't believe for one moment that he asked you to follow me. Get away from me, Tom. This is your final warning."

"You bitch," he said distastefully. "I don't even know why I care so much."

He came after her, and before she knew it, he had her down in the front seat of her car. Not caring who or what heard her, she screamed, kicked, bit, and scratched him. It didn't deter him at all. He ripped at her shirt…_Frank's shirt_…but she continued to struggle against him. If he intended to take anything from her, he would have a fight on his hands. She shoved at his chin, hoping to push him off that way. Amazingly, his body came off hers. The trick was almost…magical. Had she done that? When she was able to gather her wits a few moments later, she realized it wasn't one of her tricks at all. It was Frank. He had somehow heard the commotion and managed to pull Tom's body off hers. She wanted to protest, to tell Frank to just let him go, but the shock had blocked her ability to form words. She heard him snarl a brief demand at Tom: "What the hell are you doing?" After that, she heard the unmistakable sound of Frank's fist smashing into Tom's face. She looked up to see Frank almost hit him again, but Tom somehow managed to escape. Tom said nothing at the moment, he was trying to escape with his life, but he thought he recognized Kayla's boyfriend.

Kayla watched as Tom ran like the chicken shit that he was. She knew Frank wanted to pursue the other man, but he didn't. He was concerned about her.

Donovan leaned into the car and took her hand. After he pulled her out, he gazed down at her. "Are you all right? What the hell was that? Did you know him?"

The questions were thrown at her rapid fire. "I'm fine. Just a little shaken up," she said. "I know him," she told him with a slight nod.

"You're not going home tonight," he told her. "Come back to the house with me. You have to tell me what that was all about."

Kayla switched off the ignition on her car and they decided to leave it parked at the end of the driveway. Silently, they walked back to the house. Once inside, she went into the bathroom and cleaned up a little. There were a few scratches here and there that were oozing blood. Frank had given her a new shirt to put on, because Tom had ripped up the other one. When she came out of the bathroom, he was waiting for her in the living room. Reluctantly, she joined him on the sofa.

"Who was he, Kayla," he asked. "Why did he attack you?"

She sighed heavily before she ran her fingers through her hair. How in the hell was she going to explain about Tom? She looked at him and sighed again. "He's an ex-boyfriend and a close friend of Carson's. He's a little put out by our relationship. I suppose he followed me here. He thinks in some twisted way that I still want him."

He once again had a feeling that there was more to it, but she was holding back. "Kayla, was he the one who hit you before? The one who left the finger marks?"

She looked away from him for a moment. She felt his fingers beneath her chin, guiding her face toward his. "It was," she answered when her eyes met his.

"I won't let him touch you again. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't…didn't tell you sooner." She took the hand that was still cupping her chin and held it in her own. "There's just so much you don't know about me. And I want to tell you everything, but I don't know how to begin."

He leaned toward her and kissed her lips very gently. "Take your time, Kayla. I want to know everything, but I'm a patient man. You don't have to tell me all of it now, tomorrow, or the next day. There's time. There's plenty of time."

She allowed him to kiss her again, and she kissed him back just as deeply as he kissed her. She again thought that he had no idea what he was getting entangled in. And she was entangled just as snugly as he. Time _was not_ on their side. It was running out for them both, but there was nothing Kayla could do to stop it.

****

**To be continued…**


	9. Unexpected Propositions

**UNEXPECTED PROPOSITIONS**

The space beside Donovan was vacant. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. It was odd how he had already grown accustomed to having a body next to his in bed. Still somewhat disoriented from rousing himself out of a deep sleep, he didn't immediately see Kayla in the room. He had begun to wonder if she had gotten up and left him. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room and he managed to make out the shape of Kayla's body. As she had done the day before, she stood in front of the window. She had made a tiny opening in the curtain with just enough room for her to peer out. She evidentially hadn't wanted the moonlight to come blaring into the room, waking him. She apparently didn't know he was already awake, sitting here wondering what was going through her confused mind. He left the bed and approached her. The instant he touched her, she tensed up ever so slightly. When she recognized his touch and presence, she sighed heavily, relaxing her wound up body. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close. She tilted her head to give his lips access to the side of her throat. He felt that at any second, she was going to burst into tears. Although she had relaxed her body, she was trembling against him. Earlier, he had tried to convince her to go the emergency room and to call the police, but she refused, firmly stating that she was fine. She was also certain that Tom wouldn't bother her again, not after meeting the rough side of his fist. As he had thought many, many times, he knew there was more to the story, but she wasn't sharing it with him. Not yet. He also knew that she had been hurt more than she was letting on. Perhaps there weren't any serious physical injuries, but there were tons of emotional ones.

"Are you okay," he asked, his voice slightly muffled. His lips were still against her throat. "Stupid question, I know."  
  
She wrapped her arms around his, relaxing her body more, allowing him to hold her even tighter. "It's not _that_ stupid, Frank," she commented, trying hard to be flip. She was failing at it. Failing miserably. The repercussions of tonight's actions, hers as well as Tom's, would be heard and felt for weeks to come. Yet, she had to face her brother. This was something she wouldn't let slip. "I couldn't sleep, that's all. I suppose I'll call in at work tomorrow. If I had the ability to predict the future, I would have known to bring an overnight bag or something. I don't think I can show up wearing your shirt."  
  
He smiled a little and placed a gentle kiss on her throat. "You look better in them than I do." He bit his lip. Bit it hard. There was something else he wanted to bring up, but he was afraid of pushing her too far. Tonight made him feel a bit pushy. When he saw her being attacked in her own car, he had never felt so enraged or so scared. The mixed emotions had nearly done him in, but it made him realize that he would do anything to protect her, do anything to avoid losing her. The words 'speak now or forever hold your peace' entered his mind, clinging to his brain. It refused to let him go. "I've been thinking about something, Kayla. I've been thinking about it for weeks now, but I never said anything, and I always managed to shove it to the back of my mind. Tonight made the thoughts come back to the surface, and I don't think I can hold it in any longer. You can tell me to go to hell, to back off, or whatever, but I can't keep this inside. There's no real reason why you should be traipsing around with an overnight bag like we're having some kind of sleazy, clandestine fling. Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's more between us than that." He paused for a few seconds to give her a chance to protest or begin protesting, but she said nothing. Plunging ahead, he said, "Come live with me."

It was another of those moments when Kayla felt like screaming an affirmative answer at the top of her lungs, but she couldn't follow that impulse. It was wrong. It was so wrong. She should have bitten the bullet when he told her he loved her. If she had said nothing, it might have hurt him enough to convince him to break up with her. That was the thing. She didn't _want _to hurt him like that, but the secrets she held within her heart were hurting him more than he could ever fathom. Like she had thought many times before, he didn't get it. He simply just didn't get it. She didn't have the guts to _help _him get it, either. She didn't want to. It was selfish. She couldn't understand why fate was doing this to her now. Where was Frank Donovan a year and a half ago when this whole crazy thing started? Why couldn't he have intervened in her life back then when it was safe? Her brother had told her that the news media had let some information slip about their bank jobs. Apparently, someone from the media had a friend in the FBI, and this person told the press about the gang's nickname: Sideshow. Right now, at this exact moment, she had never felt more like a freak in her life. Sideshow was so truly apt it was nearly heartbreaking to think about it.

Kayla broke away from the safety of Frank's arms. She slowly approached the bed and sat down, leaving him by the window. At first, she couldn't look at him. She could feel his eyes boring into her, _digging _into her. After a few moments, she lifted her head and gazed up at him. Just as she had suspected, he was gazing at her steadily, confusion was clearly visible in his eyes and facial expression. "Frank, I love you, but I don't think I'm ready for that." She had forced the words out of her mouth, desperately hoping that she sounded convincing enough. However, by the look on Frank's face, he wasn't exactly buying it.

He moved toward her and kneeled beside her. One arm went around her while he raised the other so he could touch her face. "I've heard similar words leaving your lips, haven't I? Wasn't it on the night we first made love? You didn't convince me then, and you're not convincing me now. I know it seems as if we're moving too fast, but what you feel and what you want is evident in your eyes. You sit before me, denying it. I don't understand. Can you help me with that? Can you help me understand why you refuse to follow your heart? I sensed the same hesitancy in you when you said you loved me. I had no doubt that you did, but I was almost certain you were about to deny that, too. What's going on, Kayla? What's keeping you from me?"

She couldn't believe how effectively he read her mind. He knew almost everything going on inside her, and had picked it apart with little to no effort. What in the hell could she do now? If she confessed about what was truly keeping her from him, he would have her down on the floor cuffing her. She had betrayed him. From day one, she had done so, and it continued. "Frank," she whispered. "I'm a mess. There's so much going on in my life right now and I can't begin to explain it to you. I wouldn't know how if I tried. I don't think you need my excess baggage or me in your life, your bed, or your home. Part of that mess you witnessed tonight with Tom. My hesitancy was due to that, among other things. Maybe it would be best if I left here tonight and never came back. I don't want anything else to touch or taint you. You don't deserve it. You deserve the best, and I'm not it."

"You're not going anywhere. You're not leaving me." His words were stated firmly, positively. It was more of a command than a statement of fact. "When I tell you I love you, I don't intend to allow you to turn away and walk out, not without a fight. We all have baggage. Whatever it is, Kayla, I'm here for you. Tonight when I saw that son of a bitch attacking you, I realized that I would do whatever it takes to protect you. Don't throw it away because of your past or your sense of what you think I may or may not deserve. I'll fight you every step of the way, and I don't accept defeat very easily."

His stubbornness was overwhelming. She couldn't understand why he wouldn't listen to her, why he couldn't read between the lines. It felt as if she was playing games with him, using him for her own selfish needs, but she didn't think that was exactly right, either. "You don't know what you're saying or doing. You're making this so hard for me, but I can't let you go. God help us both, but I can't do it."

A determined look came across his face as if he had just discovered the cure for the common cold and was trying to convince the public of its validity. "And you know what that says to me? It says that you're not supposed to let go. It means that we're meant to be together."

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you."

He moved a bit and she soon felt his lips placing gentle kisses along the top of one thigh. She leaned back a little and supported the majority of her weight with her arms. He slid one of his hands up her leg and settled it between her slightly parted thighs. She was clad only in his shirt and her undergarments, but they were hardly barriers at all. His hand ventured closer to the center of her as his body moved upward. His lips met hers and one of her arms came up, snaking around his neck. She gasped against his lips when she felt the edge of his forefinger making contact with her. As he touched her gently, driving her out of her mind, she inwardly cursed herself for lacking the strength to put a stop to this while she had the chance. It was in her mind to grab his hand and push him away, but it wouldn't stop him. Nothing had stopped him prior to this, so she didn't think anything else would work, either. Thoughts of stopping him quickly left her as he broke the kiss and allowed his mouth to glide effortlessly down to her throat. She sighed heavily when his hand moved away from the center of her and touched the bottom edge of the shirt she was wearing. His fingers began to make quick work of the buttons. He had the shirt open when they both heard the muffled twittering of a cell phone. He groaned in frustration, and moved away from her.

"I don't think it's mine," he said distractedly. "Yours?"

She sat up and closed the gaping shirt. She nodded. "I think so." She noticed he was gazing at her in an almost quizzical way, perhaps waiting to see if she was going to answer her phone. "I'm not going to answer it," she said in an answer to his unspoken question. As she stood, she saw that he kept his eyes riveted on her. She slowly approached her handbag that she had thrown onto an easy chair in the corner of the room. She dug the screaming phone out of her bag, patiently waiting for it to stop ringing. When it did, she opened the phone and turned it off. Nonchalantly, she threw it back into her bag. She turned to face her lover and she discovered that his eyes were still on her. One move she made spoke volumes to him, but she couldn't read his thoughts. "Whatever it was, I didn't want to deal with it. Not right now."

"Kayla, are you in trouble?"

She slowly approached him until she stood no more than mere inches away. Her hand came out to rest against his cheek. "You have no idea," she whispered harshly.

"If you don't tell me on your own, I have ways of finding out."

His gaze had gone from quizzical to deadly serious in five seconds flat. His dark eyes searched her face. He was trying to read her, to dig into her mind and extract all the secrets that she had held dear for nearly two years. "I know you do," she said. "It's why I insist on getting out of your life, but I love you and I can't. I also can't tell you everything right now. You said you were a patient man, Frank, and I believe that. Give me a chance to get a few things straight and I'll tell you whatever it is that you need to know. If you find out on your own, I can't guarantee that I can straighten out anything. I'm asking for your trust."

He nodded. "You have everything I've got, but I won't wait forever."

"Understood."

He took her hand down from his face and held it in his own. "Come to bed with me. We're both exhausted."

**888**

Donovan left Kayla in bed and he went immediately to the nest. The other members of the team had not arrived yet, so he had a few minutes alone. Earlier this morning, he had promised to give Kayla time, but right at the moment, he was going to break that promise. After their conversation, a few disturbing thoughts entered his mind, and he had to deal with them. He made his way upstairs to his office and he sat down before his computer. He glared at the monitor for a few minutes, hating himself for having doubts about his lover, but he couldn't ignore her words. He had done a basic search on Kayla the first time he went out with her. It yielded only the barest information about her, but there were other ways to search her background. Better ways. He could wait for Cody, of course, but he decided against it. This search constituted a personal endeavor. Right now, it had little or nothing to do with business. He wasn't certain, but he was afraid that Kayla had hinted at something big. He didn't know if it was his paranoia, an instinctive hunch, or his obsession with the Sideshow case. Whatever it was, he thought his lover might have been giving him some kind of information, some type of lead.

He bent over his keyboard, grabbed the mouse, and opened the program he needed. He typed in Kayla's name and began digging more thoroughly in her background. When he found nothing incriminating, he did the same search on her brother. He was again given less than incriminating information. Both brother and sister had apparently led sedate lives with nothing more than Carson Armstrong having a few misdemeanor charges, traffic violations, and parking tickets. Nothing major. He would have done a duplicate search on Kayla's ex-boyfriend, but he only knew his first name. When his search yielded nothing more than piddly shit, he sat back in his chair and ran his hands over his face tiredly, disgustedly. He should have felt major relief at finding little of nothing, but he didn't. There was something definitely wrong, but Kayla wasn't letting him touch it. Finding some inspiration, he went to his keyboard again and slowly typed out another name: "Kayla Falcon." He held his finger poised over the 'enter' key for five minutes or more. Sighing heavily, he tapped it and waited. He was greeted with an unexpected message: "No such name exists in database." Donovan gazed at the screen until his eyes began to burn. For now, he had his answers. For now, it would have to be good enough. It was time to begin searching for Tom. He had the distinct impression that Tom held the key to Kayla's chest of secrets. Perhaps he held something even more precious. Perhaps he, himself, was the key to the Sideshow.

**888**

Kayla came awake slowly. Frank wasn't in bed beside her. She got out of bed and began searching the house for him. She found a note from him awaiting her in the kitchen. There were few words, only enough to let her know that he had to go in. She threw away the note. It was time to go home and face her brother. She was almost positive it had been Carson on the phone earlier, and she knew he would be less than thrilled with her. No telling what Tom had told him.

**888**

After paying an early morning visit to Carson, Tom had gone home. Kayla's boyfriend had really done a job on his face, and he spent the better part of an hour doctoring his wounds. When that task was completed, Tom went over to his beat up filing cabinet. Carson was paranoid about everything, but Tom didn't care. He kept a few things here and there from their jobs. He had even gone against Carson's wishes and had some of his shares 'cleaned.' There were more witnesses to the gang's deeds than Carson would be comfortable with. Again, Tom didn't care. He did things his own way.

Tom unlocked the filing cabinet and took out a beaten up scrapbook. In it, he kept several mementos from his past life, a life that none of the gang knew about, even his best buddy, Carson. Tom had led a different life than what he told Carson about. His buddy insisted that none of the gang members could have anything harder than a misdemeanor on his or her criminal record. If they had anything more than that, he wouldn't trust them. Tom had a few black marks on his records, more than one felony. That didn't include the other covert shit he had dealt in and didn't get caught. One of the jobs he pulled where he _did _get caught involved some heavy shit with the DEA and a few other governmental agencies. Drugs, guns, and laundered money were the main elements. There was also a bad ass federal agent bopping around in the mix. He didn't know the guy's name, but he would never forget his face. The bad ass had taken out one of Tom's running buddies. He had seen the dude pull the trigger in cold blood. The bad ass fed was Kayla's boyfriend. A G-man was screwing Kayla on a regular basis. He wanted to be the one who told Carson. He and he alone.

**888**

A few hours later, Kayla was face to face with her very pissed off brother. Before she got settled into the apartment, he was on her, demanding from her why she refused to back away from her stock broker boyfriend. Kayla had no answers. She simply listened to Carson fuss and cuss, waiting for her chance to tell him what _really _happened. Once her brother grew silent, she took her shot.

"Are you done," she asked, exasperated.

Carson glared at her, his moss green eyes suddenly dark and violent. She had never seen him so angry before. "What's your story, Sis? Do you have an explanation? You were with the guy, _sleeping_ with him, and he beat the shit out of Tom. I don't agree with Tom's motives, but he's thinking of the greater good of the gang and what we're trying to do for Brett. So, tell me, Kay. What's _your _version?"

She sighed heavily, readying for him to call her a liar. "You must believe me, Carson. I'm in love with this man and I can't walk away now. It can't be done. I was leaving around midnight to come back to tell you what happened and Tom _stalked _me. No telling how long he was there, waiting for his chance. He attacked me, Carson. Attacked me in the front seat of my car. I have every reason to believe he was going to rape me. I have the marks on my body to prove it. Frank beat him up to protect me. If he hadn't come, Tom would have succeeded." She stopped speaking for a moment to gather her courage reserves. "This wasn't the first time he attacked me, Carson. Remember the last bank job I was on? When you went out to send Dora a cashiers check, he broke in on me after my shower, and tried to mess with me then. I resisted, and he hit me. You saw the marks on my face. His fingers did it. Ever since he found out I was seeing Frank, he's been screwing with me."

Carson turned away from Kayla for a brief moment to allow her story to sink in. Tom's version mentioned Kayla cajoling her boyfriend into beating him up-for no good reason. When he first heard the story, he was too angry to analyze it, to tear it apart. Now that he had had a few hours to think about it, it didn't make sense. Kayla was nonviolent to a fault. She fought back only when it was necessary. Why would she sic her boyfriend on Tom just for shits and giggles? He loved Tom like a brother, but he wasn't flesh and blood. Kayla, on the other hand, was. He trusted her tenfold over Tom.

"I'll deal with Tom," Carson said sedately.

"And what about the other, Carson? What about me and Frank?"

Carson turned back around to focus his eyes on his sister. "We'll meet with the gang in a few days, after I finish with Tom. I have a plan that might cut this short so you can get on with your life, and Brett can get on with hers. But I need time to work it out before I present it."

"Whatever you decide, Carson, I'm out," she said firmly.

"Hold on to that thought until the gang meets. I'll do what I can to give you your out. Brett comes first, Kayla. We're still on the same page with that, right?"

She swallowed a huge lump in her throat. "Yes," she whispered harshly. "Brett comes first. I would never turn my back on that."

"Good. I'm glad we understand that."

Kayla turned away from her brother and entered her bedroom. After locking the door behind her, she dug her cell phone out of her handbag. She turned it back on and the phone beeped sharply. Someone had left her voice mail. She was sure she knew who that someone was. Frank. She hit a key to retrieve the message, and her hunch was correct. Frank's message was brief, almost perfunctory: "Meet me at 6:30. Castle Bar. Don't be late."

_Don't be late_. She had no idea what would happen after tonight. She felt a deep sense of foreboding doom. Her nightmares were becoming reality.

****

**To be continued…**


	10. Intermission

**INTERMISSION**

**Present Day**

Donovan slipped away from the nest. He made it no secret where he was going, but none of the other agents had any clear idea what his tie was to Kayla Falcon. He had not spoken of it to anyone, even Emily, and she knew what was going on. The capture and arrest of one of the leader's behind the Sideshow was big news. Kayla had been in jail no more than a week before he received a phone call from his ex-wife. Normally, he would have spilled everything, told Em all about it, and then some. However, uncharacteristically for him, he shut it off. He gave her a curt response and then hung up. She had called him back several times, leaving messages on his answering machine, but he didn't return her calls. He didn't want to talk about Kayla to anyone. He didn't want to have to analyze his relationship with her, or his failure to uncover her history. He didn't want anyone to know that he still had feelings for her. For now, it was best to hide from it. He would face reality when he was damn good and ready. He chased it out of his mind as he continued on toward his destination.

His face puckered with disgust the moment he approached the courthouse. It was a media circus outside. Almost everyone with the cameras and microphones ignored him. To them, he was no one, and he was glad to get past them. Thankfully for them all, there hadn't really been a trial. He wasn't afraid of facing the scrutiny of his exposed relationship, he was sure Kayla wouldn't have mentioned it anyway, but the prospect of having to testify against her would have been devastating. He would have done it if necessary, of course, but the pain was still fresh and biting. Kayla had appeared in court two days ago and pled guilty. Donovan had been there for that as well. Seeing her in the drab jail uniform and handcuffs was more than unsettling. Yet, it was exactly what constituted justice in this country, and he had no choice but to support it. He still didn't know what Kayla's motivation was. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care, but he did. He couldn't fool or lie to himself anymore. One way or another, he would extract a confession out of her. Today, she was going to be sentenced. After that, she would be taken immediately to prison. Perhaps then, when she didn't have anything to lose, she would talk to him. He hadn't spoken to her since he visited her in jail. He hadn't been able to face her.

Donovan entered the courthouse and located the right courtroom. There was quite a crowd waiting in line to get a seat inside. _Why hadn't they closed these proceedings_, he thought as he took the stairs two at time past the rabid onlookers. He gained early entrance into the courtroom and he was taken aback almost immediately. Kayla was already seated at the defense table. Apparently her court-appointed attorney had found her a nice skirt and blouse to wear. Perhaps it was a ploy to reduce her time behind bars. It wasn't an uncommon thing at trials. He had seen it dozens of times in his career. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was in her everyday work outfit, waiting for him to arrive to take her out to dinner. That thought alone killed him, damaged his already aching heart. He wanted to lunge toward her, strangle her, and force her to tell him everything. He wanted another chance to touch her, to just say her name without spitting venom. He wanted so much, but could have none of it.

When he sat in on the proceedings two days ago, he chose to stay in the back, away from sight. He knew Kayla was aware of his presence, but she never looked at him. Today, he was tempted to stay in the back again, but he thought better of it. He didn't feel the need to hide. And hiding was exactly what he had been doing. He wanted her to see his face, to see every expression, and facial tic. He wanted to see and interpret her actions, her behaviors. He wanted this, and he deserved it. Donovan strolled casually toward the front between two rows of benches. Just before approaching the column directly behind the defense table, he turned a sharp left to enter the boxed in area reserved for the jury. He would sit here today with the hounding members of the press. He would be as anonymous as possible. Only Kayla would understand the connection. The moment he chose a padded seat and sat down, he noticed the way Kayla's body tensed. She clasped her cuffed hands together and he saw her knuckles turning white. He was willing her to look at him.

The moment Kayla heard the doors opening in the courtroom, she knew it was Frank. He had been here two days ago, and today he returned to find out what type of sentence she would receive. She didn't know what was going to happen, but no sentence would be stiff enough to punish her for what she had done to Frank Donovan. She heard his hollow footsteps as he began to approach the front of the courtroom. When he was here before, he sat in the last row of benches, several dozen feet away from her. However, today, he had chosen the jury box. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her, and she didn't doubt he was trying his best to make her look at him. She couldn't do it. Not just yet. The last time she saw him was when he visited her in jail. If they had been alone, she was certain he would have hurled his body at her and then forced her to tell him everything that he didn't already know. There wasn't much to tell now, but there was still the matter of Brett. Frank didn't know about that…yet. Although she knew he had nothing but disgust for her in his heart now, she would have to tell him about Brett and Dora. Brett's life depended on it. Dora knew about what happened to Carson and was aware that she had wound up in jail. But that still didn't end Brett's situation. Could she even appeal to Frank now? Would he even listen to her? She wouldn't blame him if he didn't, but Brett was an innocent in this deal. He couldn't possibly hold anything against an innocent, could he? He had loved her and told her…_shown_ her…many times. The feelings were now gone or buried, but she felt in her heart that he would help Brett. Would she get her chance to speak to him? To tell him? She owed him so much, though, and it was very arrogant of her to assume he would grant one more favor.

Unclenching her fists and relaxing her hands, she lifted her head and afforded a glance in Frank's general direction. As she expected, his eyes were glued on her. His facial expression was neutral and his lips were in a tight, grim little line. However, his eyes were anything _but _neutral. In them, she saw anger and pain. There was no gentleness, no other feeling, and worst of all, no love. She half expected him to launch his body at hers, and she wouldn't blame him for that, either. There were so many things she wouldn't blame him for. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't know if she would ever have the chance. Would he see her again after this? Would he accept correspondence from her? She had let so many people down and now she had failed Brett. What would Brett do without her? What would Brett do with her in prison? She wished she could go back and erase the last two years. But she couldn't. She deserved his glare, but she couldn't tolerate the ire in his eyes any longer. She turned her head and gazed down at the tabletop. Would this day ever be over?

The moment Kayla took her eyes off his face, Donovan exhaled deeply. He hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath the entire time she was keeping eye contact with him. Inside, his resolve was softening, but he held fast to his glare. He didn't think he could ever forgive her for what she had done. There was something in her eyes, and it wasn't hurtful reproach. She was pleading with him, conveying some type of need. He had picked it up instantaneously, and he had been half tempted to say something. There were no bailiffs in the room yet, and he didn't think her defense attorney would have disallowed him a moment to speak to her. After all, it had been his team that had taken her down. At the same time, he didn't want to talk to her. He was deathly afraid of what he might say. There was actually no need to talk to her, but he would eventually do it in his own sweet time. Today was just too soon. Yet, there was something else going on inside him. He remembered his vow to protect her, to do anything he could for her, but he had betrayed that vow, broken that promise. He kept telling himself that it didn't matter because of what she had done, but it still didn't kill the ache. He had betrayed her as much as she had betrayed him. Once she was sentenced and he knew the location of where she would be sent, he would see her. He would get to the bottom of it all despite hell.

Donovan continued to watch Kayla as she shifted nervously in her chair. He watched as she tapped her attorney's shoulder and said something in his ear. The attorney handed her a legal pad and pen. With marked difficulty, she wrote something on the top sheet. After a moment's hesitation, she held up the pad so that he could clearly see what she had written. Scrawled across the page were two words: "I'm sorry." _She _was sorry. _Not as sorry as I am_. He knew at that moment, he should have left. He didn't want to hang around here and listen as her sentence was handed down. He had a life outside here, a job to go to, and dozens of pending cases that needed his attention. He couldn't move one inch. For the first time since he sat down, he averted his gaze. The two words she had written across the legal pad had effectively killed him quicker than any bullet manufactured by man. There were many things…_covert_ things…he could do to help this situation, but he couldn't take that route, either. He was tempted to do it, more tempted than he had ever been in his life.

He breathed a sigh of relief when court personnel began to enter the room, quickly followed by the onlookers, and members of the press. Coming today had been a very bad idea, a very bad one, indeed. Silently, he watched as the penalty phase began. All the while, he caught himself holding his breath more than once. Kayla stood to face the judge. Throughout it all, she kept her composure, and didn't give off one ounce of the fear he knew must be coiled inside her. He held his breath again the moment her sentence was handed down. Ten years in state prison. Kayla showed no emotion when she heard. She simply stood stock still with her cuffed hands clasped before her. _Ten years. The shank of her life. Was there anything I could have done to help her?_ There was, of course, but he hadn't put one foot forward. His taste for vengeance had ruled his heart, and he was determined to put away every member of the Sideshow, especially the ringleaders. Was it right to feel this way? Was he justified? Or was it nothing more than complete bullshit? _You are a cold-hearted bastard, Frank Donovan_. _She deserves this. She deserves every bit of it_. It would be the only thought to comfort him tonight as he slept in his cold, lonely bed.

Right before court was dismissed, the bailiffs came to take Kayla away so that she could begin her ten-year stint at the state prison in Polston, Illinois. They led her toward the jury box and when she was in close range of him, she focused her eyes on his face for what she assumed would be the last time. She mouthed the words she had written on the legal pad. "I'm sorry." However, she also added two more words to the mix. "Forgive me." He said nothing in return, and didn't bat an eye. He couldn't. There was too much going on inside him. He watched her until she was out of sight. He was tempted to follow along behind the bailiffs and see her to her transportation to the facility, but he fought that temptation with everything he had in him. He would wait and make the proper plans to see her at Polston. He would get his answers then. _Goodbye for now, Kayla. God help me, but I love you still_.

Instead of returning to the nest when all the activity died down, Donovan went home. He needed a breather, and going back to work was another in a long line of bad ideas for the time being. Perhaps he would return in a few hours when he had the chance to work out some of his frustration. As soon as he pulled into his driveway, he saw a taxi idling near his carport. What the hell? He killed the engine on his truck and left it parked a few feet away from the house. He recognized the passenger in the taxi. He didn't want to see anyone, especially her, but he had no choice in the matter. The instant she saw him approaching, she came out of the taxi, and sent the driver away.

Donovan stared down at his ex-wife in an angered sort of awe. "What are you doing here," he demanded rather than asked.

"I was worried, Frank," she said. "You haven't been returning my calls for weeks now."

"Do you want an exclusive, too? Is that it," he asked bitterly.

She recoiled from the ire in his voice. He was extremely hurt and she wondered how often he had acquainted himself with the bottle here lately. His eyes were red and he had circles underneath them. It appeared that he hadn't slept in days. "Remember who you're talking to, Donovan. Okay? I'm sorry about what happened. I know how much she meant to you, but hiding from your friends and family isn't doing you any good."

He nodded and smiled a little. His smile was as bitter as his voice. "Ah, is that so? So my mother knows as well? Everyone can rest easily, Em. I took a few bad guys off the streets, that's all. Nothing out of the ordinary for my team or me. We do it all the time. Protect and serve, just like the cops."

"It's a little more than that, isn't it? You're hurt, Frank, and I'm just here to help out a little. You don't have to attack me or get angry with your mother. If we didn't love you, I wouldn't be here right now. Why don't we go inside and talk? I think you need that more than anything right now. That and a good night's sleep. What do you say?"

Donovan turned away from her and took a few steps toward his truck. His first impulse was to get inside and drive off. He had no desire to talk about anything. He was much too angry right now. Once he stood in front of the vehicle, he smashed his fist onto the hood. Ignoring the pain ballooning in his bruised hand, he whipped around and faced Emily. She had jumped and stepped back a few paces. His eyes were wild and flashing with rage.

"Don't you understand," he snarled through clenched teeth. "I sent the woman I love to prison. For all that I'm going through right now, she may as well have died, because that's exactly what it feels like. She's dead and I'll never see her again. Not like I want. Not ever. I could have done something to help her, but I didn't. Too many rules and regulations. Too many people to answer to. It's all too much."

"Frank, you're bleeding. I think you need to come inside and take care of that. You might have broken…"

He interrupted her with an impatient wave of his good hand. "_I don't care_. I've done the right thing with this, I followed protocol, and I did everything by the book. I'm not sure anymore if what I did _was _the right thing. If I had taken a different course of action, maybe I could have done something to keep her out, to _protect _her. I didn't. I could have made deals and spoken up. I didn't. I let my emotions rule me and now she's gone."

"You did what you could, Frank. You did what you were _legally _allowed to do," she said carefully.

"But I can't be sure it was the best thing. I can't be sure of anything anymore." He balled his good hand into a fist, and for a moment, Emily thought he was going to bang it against the hood of his truck like he did the other one. He didn't. "She's gone and I put her away. I didn't even give her a chance to explain why she did what she did. I let her go as if she didn't mean anything to me. I screwed up in every way imaginable, but no one is the wiser. I want to believe that she was a damn good actress and faked it all, but I know that's not true. She didn't get under my skin to study my moves or to extract information about the investigation. She loved me, and I let them take her. It may have been what had to happen, but it doesn't make what I did right. I cheated her. I cheated myself." He shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm going to see her whenever I find out the visitation schedule, and I'm going to let her tell me why she did this. I'll listen to her. It's the only thing I can do for her now."

"Will you go inside now and take care of your hand?"

He still didn't notice the pain. He was certain he would in a few hours when the rage melted away the adrenaline. "In a minute," he said. "I need to stay out here and calm down. If I go inside, I'm not sure I won't break something. Could you give me some time?"

She nodded. "Of course, Frank."

Once Emily had disappeared inside the house, he leaned against his truck tiredly. He hadn't realized how much guilt he had bottled up inside. Kayla probably deserved everything that had been handed down to her, but he wasn't sure if he totally believed that. He had been with her, he saw her apartment, her car, her clothing, and was well aware of the neighborhood where she lived. None of it added up. What had she done with the money? Where had she funneled it, and why? There had to be more to it than what he knew and saw. Kayla and the other members of the Sideshow hadn't been knocking off banks for millions of dollars. The amount of money was small, miniscule. In fact, with the exception of one bank, all the institutions they hit were tiny. There were so many questions he longed to ask. He wished he had asked them right after Kayla's capture, but he couldn't. Not then. He would have no trouble doing it now, not since he exploded in front of his ex-wife, and maimed his hand in the process. Where had it started to stiff? What had led him to this juncture? The pivotal point, the change, had occurred with one man…Tom Kipplinger.

****

**To be continued…**

**A/N: Polston, Illinois doesn't exist as far as I know. It is a city solely created by the mind of the twisted author.**


	11. Betrayals and Temptation

**BETRAYALS AND TEMPTATION**

**Back to the Past**

Kayla arrived at the bar a few minutes before the designated time she was supposed to meet Frank. She thought it would give her time to get herself together before she saw him, but she soon realized it was a fruitless way of thinking. Frank was already there. She wasn't quite ready to see him yet, and she was grateful that he hadn't noticed her…or at least she _thought _he hadn't noticed her. She took a brief detour toward the bathroom. Once inside, she stood before the sink, ran the cold water, and splashed her face several times. Her stomach was unsettled and tied in knots. She wondered why he wanted to meet her here instead of at his place. She could have begged off, but she didn't want to dodge him. Not really. She grabbed a paper towel and blotted her face dry. It was time to face Frank, no matter how unready she was. She emerged from the bathroom and had to admit that she felt like crap. She probably looked like it, too. She still couldn't quite discern why she felt so shaky, but that thought was a little crazy. She had tons of reasons to feel shaky and the grandest one of all sat only a few feet away. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she slowly approached him. When he noticed her, he nodded toward the hostess. He took her hand and the two of them followed the hostess to a booth tucked in the far corner of the room. Once they were seated and drink orders taken, they were left alone. Kayla hadn't really wanted anything, but she needed something to do with her hands.

"Why did you want to meet here," she asked, focusing her eyes on his face.

"Neutral territory," he answered simply.

_Neutral territory_. The words sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't like the sound of it. Why would he feel the need to choose a place like this if he didn't have something major he wanted to discuss? She assumed he had dug into her background and found out all her secrets. But that didn't sound right, either. Carson had assured her that all their information was bland. As far as the world knew, neither Carson nor Kayla Falcon existed in this world. He had made certain of it two years ago when they decided to form their gang.

She had opened her mouth to say something else, but the hostess appeared out of nowhere with their drinks. When they were alone again, Kayla sipped at her mixed drink and watched Frank as he downed his neat whiskey in one gulp. _He's garnering his strength reserves, here. That's exactly what he's doing_. "Frank, what's going on," she finally asked.

"I want to talk to you about your ex-boyfriend," he began.

She sighed and took hold of her drink. She was half tempted to gulp hers like he had done. Instead, she sipped at it tentatively. Her stomach did a flip-flop roll as it accepted the mixture. Nausea gripped her fiercely. "Frank, please. What happened is over, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't care about him or what happens to him. I just want to forget."

"I can't let it go," he stated firmly. "He attacked you and had you nearly stripped down. God only knows what he would have done if he had caught you out somewhere else. Not only that, but I think he is linked to the trouble you hinted at. All I want is his last name."

Tom's last name. It wasn't much of a request. It would be relatively easy to fulfill, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew he wanted to run some type of background check on him. Carson had cleared his and her records; he hadn't done so with the rest of the gang. However, Tom swore he had no serious arrests on his rap sheet. Why did she suddenly not trust that? If he had lied about one thing, he would probably lie about several others. It was Tom's way. "Frank," she began.

He interrupted her by suddenly taking her hands in his. Her drink had nearly gone south. "Kayla, why are you protecting him?"

His eyes were blazing and set determinedly on her face. This was something he was not going to let go. "I'm…I'm not."

"I don't believe that," he told her. He still had her hands clasped tightly in his. "I hate saying this, Kayla, because I know it's going to hurt you, but you're lying to me. I want to know your connection to this man. I want to know why you're protecting him, especially after what he has done to you."

_I'm not protecting him. I'm protecting Brett_. The words threatened to spill out of her mouth, but she held them back and fought the urge almost violently. He was hot on her trail, and she knew she should have spilled everything. Struggling mightily, she freed her hands from his. "Drop it, Frank. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"But we must," he insisted. "I know you want to tell me. I can see it all over you, Kayla. Drop your front. _Talk to me_."

Abruptly, she stood. "_No_. I have to go."

She didn't give him time to react. She turned away and walked out. Donovan sat back in the booth in defeat. What the hell was that? He was almost certain he had gotten through to her, but she turned her back on him again. He didn't understand and it was killing him inside. He wanted to go after her, but he hesitated. As angry and as hurt as she was, she probably wouldn't listen to him. Her unwillingness to tell him about Tom had him worried. Again, he was positive Tom was the man behind so many of Kayla's issues, and he wondered if he wasn't the one behind the Sideshow. If she knew something about the bank robberies, why wouldn't she tell him? She knew he worked for the FBI, but she had no clue his team was assisting with the Sideshow heists. _Maybe she's a party to it_. The thought was disturbing, but it refused to leave him. He hated having these doubts about her. It killed him worse than her denial to tell him what was truly going on. He stared down into his empty glass and found himself wishing it were filled again. As if someone had read his mind, a server came up to the booth and asked if he wanted a refill. Yes, he did. He certainly did. Perhaps he would get a bottle. Perhaps if he were to get a little shit-faced, it would help the situation. It surely wouldn't hurt it.

Donovan was working on his third drink, trying his best to dull the pain, when a woman approached his booth. He thought it might be another server, but when he looked up, he realized it was a patron. She was pretty in a vacant sort of way and well put together in tight black denim jeans with a dark blue top. Her hair was dark brown and long. He was a little irritated to say the least. "Is there something I can do for you," he asked blandly.

"A loaded question," she answered with a smile. "I'm T.C." Without his asking, she slid into the booth across from him. "I've been watching you for a while."

He stared down into his empty glass. It was about time to refill it. _Dear God, don't tell me she's hitting on me. I don't think I can handle that tonight_. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer to be alone," he said evenly, making eye contact with her. Oddly enough, her eye color was damn close to Kayla's. _Kayla_. "I'm flattered, but I'm also involved with someone else."

She didn't miss a beat. "You look like a man who doesn't need to be alone. Where's your 'someone else?' Not here, I don't think."

Donovan was about to rip into this 'T.C.' person. Rip into her good. It was clear that she wanted a one night stand, and those had never been his style. It would have been so easy, though. All he would have had to do was agree with her, leave with her, and proceed to the nearest sleazy ass motel. It was much simpler than what he was going through with Kayla, but it was also crazy as hell. Having empty sex with someone he didn't know or love was a huge no no. Despite what anyone thought of him, he would never screw around with someone just because he could. He wouldn't trade that principle for all the 'T.C.'s' in the universe. She disgusted him. Thoroughly. "Thanks, but no thanks," he told her, the blandness coming back into his voice. "I'm not the least bit intrigued or interested. Perhaps you should continue your search for your bed partner tonight. Would you mind?"

**101010**

It was a quarter to eleven when Kayla heard the doorbell ringing. She had fallen into bed hours ago, depressed and crying. The nausea that had gripped her stomach earlier still held on, but not as tightly as before. When the doorbell began to ring, she had just closed her eyes. Carson was out, likely having his discussion with Tom, and she knew he had a key. Of course, he could have always left it behind. Groaning incoherently, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reluctantly left her sanctuary. She stood on tiptoe to peer into the peephole. She was shocked to see who her visitor was. Shocked, but also relieved. She unlocked the door and swung it open. Frank stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame. She thought he might have had a little bit too much to drink, because his normally clear eyes were cloudy and glazed over.

"Frank, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry to show up at your door like this, Kayla, but I had to see you," he said slowly, carefully.

Slight fumes of the whiskey he had consumed tainted his normally sweet breath. It was obvious that he couldn't drive all the way home like this. He wasn't exactly falling over drunk, but he had had enough to somewhat impair him. He was leaning on the doorframe for support. She didn't want to see him and had almost told him so, but she couldn't turn him away. If anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself. "Come on, Frank," she said, taking his arm.

She led him into the apartment and he was tempted to push her hand aside. He wasn't _that _drunk. However, he couldn't. She was touching him and he reveled in _any _touch she bestowed upon him. He again had a fleeting thought of the horrid 'T.C.' What he had with Kayla was love, what he had with her overshadowed everything. Up against Kayla, the woman at the bar was hammered dog shit. There was so much he wanted to say to her, including telling her about the woman, but he couldn't vocalize just yet. He kept silent and allowed her to lead him into her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door behind them. He went to her bed, sitting down heavily. What he wouldn't give to pour out everything about it all. It was the main reason he didn't drink a lot when he went out. He always wanted to talk. Before the night was through, he was afraid he'd tell her all about the Sideshow, what the case was doing to him, and his mind. But he held his tongue. He couldn't do that. She wasn't part of the fold. _But I love her_. He buried his face into his hands. When he looked up at her, she was standing close to the door with her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing her flannel pajamas again, and he longed to see her skimpily clad in one of his shirts.

"Are you okay," she asked, feeling stupid. It was all over him that he _wasn't _okay. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not okay, and the only thing I want is you." He sighed heavily and ran his hands over his face. The whiskey was loosening its hold little by little. "I hurt you tonight, Kayla, and I'm sorry. I know I'm pushing you hard on this, but I'm doing everything in my power to keep from losing you. I've been under a tremendous amount of stress at work. I shouldn't take it out on you." She was gazing at him earnestly, her beautiful eyes showing every ounce of love she felt for him. "After you left, a woman at the bar approached me. It was clear that she wanted to take me home. The whole thing sickened me. I thought of you, what we have together, how much I love you, and I knew I had to come." He watched as Kayla approached and sat beside him. He looked at her. "I'll leave if you want me to."

She reached out and took his hand. "I don't think you should drive. Besides, I don't want you to go." She raised his hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. "I'm sorry, too." She lowered his hand but held onto it. "You always want me to talk to you, but I want you to know that you can talk to me, too. I know the nature of your work is such that you can't tell me everything, but I'm here for you." God. What was saying? Where was this leading? She felt lower and lower. "I love you." She kissed his lips very gently, but she pulled away after a brief moment. "Kick off your shoes and lie down."

"Only if you join me."

After he removed enough clothing to be comfortable, he slid under the covers and waited patiently for her to join him. She hesitated for a few minutes before climbing in beside him. She cajoled him to turn to his stomach so she could give him an amateur massage. She straddled his waist and her hands began working on his shoulders. He didn't argue. What she lacked in experience, she made up for with her touch tenfold.

"You're so knotted up and tense," she said.

"I know," he said off-handedly. He didn't know if it was the booze or her hands, but his inhibitions and guardedness were low to nonexistent. She had gotten to him in more ways than one. "Bank robberies are driving me crazy. I can't focus on anything else."

Her hands stopped moving abruptly. Bank robberies? Did he say bank robberies? She hoped she had been imagining things. Oh God how she hoped. She quickly went back to the massage. "Bank robberies?" Her voice was no more than a loud squeak.

It didn't hit him that he had let some information slip until she repeated the words. But he felt the need to tell her everything, he just couldn't. "Yes."

Her heart began to pound hard in her chest. She had just realized her worst fear. Her lover, the man she loved, was working a series of bank robberies that she was in the thick of. "The ones that have been all over the news? Sideshow?"

He grimaced at the mention of the nickname. He hated that it had leaked to the press. "That's the one."

Oh dear God. What was she going to do? Her FBI agent lover was hunting her down. She wondered if he had been in on the case from the beginning. She was tempted to ask, but she bit it back. She wouldn't use him for information. She just wouldn't. However, something inside her was destroyed now. She didn't know if she could ever recover. Numbly, she continued caressing his shoulders, totally unaware of what she was doing. For all she knew, she could have been physically hurting him. She would eventually have to confess, that's all there was to it. But how? "Let it…let it leave your mind," she said softly. "I'm sure you'll find them." Swallowing her larruping heart, she made a decision. A clear one. She was going to lead him right where he needed to be. "Frank? Tom's last name is Kipplinger."

She moved when she felt his body shifting. He turned to his side and gazed up at her. "Why are you telling me now? Why didn't you tell me earlier? Baby, I don't understand what's going on here."

She shrugged and shook her head. "I owe you, Frank."

Suddenly, her eyes seemed to be overflowing with tears. They came from nowhere. "Kayla, what's wrong?" His eyes searched her face. "You owe me for what? What is it?"

"Nothing," she whispered as she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Nothing at all." She kissed him again and he deepened it, plunging his tongue into her inviting mouth. When he broke it, his hand came up and began caressing her cheek. Her eyes were still shiny and tear filled. "Make love to me," she said. "I want you so much."

For Kayla, it wasn't a lust or a need thing. After tonight, she didn't know what was going to happen between her and Frank. It was anyone's guess. She supposed she was living a lie, but she wanted to hang onto it, hang onto _him_, for as long as possible. Since she now knew he was working the Sideshow case, it was only a matter of time before he uncovered everything. She hoped she could get out, but she wasn't so sure it would make a difference anyway. She knew deep down inside her heart that she was going to lose him, and that he would be the one to make her ultimately pay for her crimes. The thought should have terrified her, but it didn't. Perhaps it was punishment well deserved, needed.  
  
It didn't take long for either of them to shed their clothing barriers. Once that was taken care of, he came down to her on the bed and allowed his mouth to cover hers. During their kiss, she plunged her hands into his hair to hold him in place for as long as he would allow. She loved the taste of him, the way he seemed to take her breath without actually taking it, and the way his tongue plundered the inside of her mouth. She reveled in the sensation of it all, his luscious mouth devoured her completely. It was mind-boggling how he affected her. She would never understand it and never understand why fate could be so damn cruel sometimes.

He broke the kiss after several long moments to gaze down at her. There were still tears in her eyes. "Whatever is going on inside you, Kayla, it doesn't matter. It won't change the way I feel about you. _Ever_. Nothing could make me stop loving you." Those gentle, soft-spoken words would come back to haunt him in the near future. But for now, he was unaware of the changes that would soon occur.

"I hope you mean that," she whispered as if she had knowledge of the future. "I hope it's not just pillow talk and you getting swept away by the moment."

He grasped her shoulder and turned her to her side so she would be facing him. "I love you, Kayla. What I say to you at any time is never said during the heat of the moment. _Never_. I'm not a user, I don't play games, and I am not in the habit of sleeping with women because I can. Do you understand?"

She nodded and blinked her eyes rapidly, sending a patter of tears down onto her cheeks. "I do."

He kissed her again, pulling her body against his, nearly crushing her into him. Their kiss deepened, and she felt herself slowly drifting downward until her back hit the mattress. When the kiss was broken, his beautiful mouth and skillful hands touched her, tasted her, alit fire after fire within her quivering body. She was almost at the point of begging him to come inside her when he entered her slowly, deeply. Soulfully, he had touched her in every way. She was convinced that she would never love like this again in her lifetime. Release after sweet release hit her, rocking her, shaking her to her very core. At his climax, she tightened her hold on his body, literally clamping her legs about his waist. Her nails dug deep furrows along his back. She heard him taking in a sharp hissed breath as the sweat trickled down and stung the fresh grooves. She placed a smattering of kisses on his lips. They were brief, but very soft. At that point, she could keep the tears at bay no longer. He drank them in as if they were precious water.

"Hold me," came her plea. "Just like this. Please, Frank. Don't let me go."

"Kayla," he said, almost moaning her name. "You're killing me. I want to help you, but you won't let me."

She didn't answer him, didn't say another word outside her plea for him to hold her. It was all she could manage. She was in the midst of living, breathing hell, but she endured it. She had no choice. There was no escape. Not now. Not ever.

****

**To be continued…**


	12. Exposure

**EXPOSURE**

Carson sat in the darkened club nursing his drink. He knew that Tom's band played here on this night, and he had planned to wait for him to get off stage. However, for reasons only known to whatever higher power existed, the band wasn't playing tonight. He wasn't happy about that. It meant he would have to track him down at his place. He didn't necessarily want to do that, either, but again, it wasn't anything he could ignore. Their confrontation wouldn't be pretty, but it had to be done. The jerk had attacked Kayla, and there was no room for that in the gang. Carson was readying to leave, but movement from the front of the club stopped him. It was Tom. Carson waited patiently until Tom was close enough to grab. Within moments of his arrival, Carson was on him, and the sudden, unexpected scuffle had drawn a crowd.

"What the hell were you thinking attacking my sister," Carson demanded, his moss green eyes spelling murder.

Tom grinned at his friend. The grin was anything but nice and mellow. "Your sister is screwing a FBI agent."

**111111**

Kayla awoke and glanced at the bedside clock. It was close to three in the morning. She had every intention of snuggling even closer against Frank, but a discreet knock on her bedroom door interrupted her plans. Knowing it was her brother, she chose to ignore it. Whatever Carson had to say to her could wait. She didn't want to leave the comfort of her lover's arms. However, her brother was persistent. The discreet knocking kept on and on, growing a little louder every few seconds. If she didn't talk to him now, the noise would likely rouse Frank. Although Kayla was an adult, she didn't want to be 'caught' with a man in her bed. Like it mattered, anyway. Carson probably already knew Frank was there. He wasn't stupid. He had most likely seen Frank's black truck. Moving carefully, she slipped out of the comfort of Frank's arms. She padded over to her closet and retrieved her robe. Just before she left the bedroom, she looked back at him and saw that he hadn't moved the slightest inch. Good. She wasn't so sure she wanted him to hear the conversation that was about to occur.

Reluctantly, she approached the bedroom door, opened it, and peered out. She could easily see her brother within the darkness. There was a look about him that was unsettling to say the least. "What is it," she whispered.

"He's here with you, isn't he," he asked calmly, although his facial expression betrayed that.

"Yes," she answered simply. "What is it," she repeated.

Without hesitating a moment, he reached through the small crack she had created and grabbed her wrist. He dragged her out of the room, barely giving her enough time to close the door behind her. She tried to say something, but he shook his head. He pulled her over to the living room as far away from her bedroom as he could get. "I found Tom tonight and I dealt with him. He's out of the gang, but before I gave his sorry ass the boot, he gave me some interesting information. Disturbing information. I wasn't so sure that I could believe him, but you have to tell me the truth, Kay. Is he FBI?"

Kayla's heart began to larrup again. She could have lied to her brother and he would have believed her, but she didn't. She couldn't. The proverbial cat was out of its bag. Everything was crumbling all around her. "How did Tom know," she asked quietly.

Carson snarled and released her abruptly. His hands ached to destroy something, but he sure as hell didn't want to awaken the goddamn FBI agent sleeping in his sister's bed. "I don't know whom the hell to trust anymore," he began. "Tom lied, Kayla. He has a goddamn rap sheet with _two _felonies, _serious _felonies. During the commission of one of those felonies, your FBI boyfriend gunned down his partner. When he fought with Tom, he recognized the dude." He laughed bitterly. "Oh, but that's not the worst part. Not even close. Tom's been getting his shares laundered, and he's been keeping things from the heists. Newspaper articles. The whole nine yards. You've known all along that your boyfriend was FBI, didn't you?" When she didn't answer him, he approached her and shook her. "_Didn't you_? Unless you were sleeping with him for information, I don't understand why you would do this to us. What were you thinking, Kay. What were you _doing_?"

She had never seen her brother so angry. He was ready to commit murder. "How dare you think so little of me that you would believe I'd use someone like that." She shook her head. "I didn't know all along. But I also didn't let him go when I found out. I told you, Carson. I love him, and it's not so easy to release someone you love. Otherwise, I never would have agreed to do this for Brett."

He snarled again and jammed his hand into his hair. He ran it through his thick tresses violently. Kayla was surprised that there weren't several strands clinging to his fingers. Keeping his voice at a reasonably low level, he charged right into to her. "You have jeopardized the entire operation, Kay. You have jeopardized Brett's life. If…no…_when _this FBI agent gets wise, it's all over. Do you understand that? If he remembers Tom or finds out any information about him, we're all royally screwed. And you stand there talking about love and how hard it is to release it. Well, little sis, you just did. You've released all the love you felt for Brett the first time you went back to this guy after you found out. If anything happens to ruin the rest of our plans, we know where to put the blame, don't we? We're going to the alternate plan right now. Screw meeting with the gang. You just ruined that. I hope it was all worth it, Kayla. Now go back to your lover and leave me to it."

"Carson…"

He waved his hand toward her, dismissing her. "I'm done, Kayla. I'm not saying another word about it."

Her body was still wracked by shock at her brother's harsh words. Yet, everything he said made such perfect sense. She _had _put everyone in jeopardy, including the most important person to them both, Brett. She turned away from Carson and slowly moved back toward the bedroom. She was barely aware that she was walking at all. Zombie-like, she shambled toward the door. Once she turned the knob, she could just make out Frank's body in the stifling darkness. He was sitting up on the side of the bed. He reached for the switch on the bedside lamp, but her voice stopped him.

"Don't," she said softly. "Leave it off."

On automatic now, Kayla came out of her robe and slipped under the covers. For the first time in months, she simply couldn't feel anything. She was numb. Untouchable. Vaguely, she felt Frank's body shifting as he slid into the bed next to her. Her back was to him, but she could sense he was propped up on his elbow, gazing at her, digging into her with his dark eyes. He wouldn't leave her alone or let it go, it wasn't in him to do so. Besides, she knew he loved her, and she had learned quickly that he had no qualms going into full attack mode to protect those for whom he cared. She just didn't know if she could speak or react at all. Too much had happened tonight. Something had died inside her. Something vital. She wasn't certain that he could reanimate it if he tried.

"Kayla, what happened?" He reached out to her and laid his hand on her arm. He was closer to her now, his body pressed firmly against hers. "Tell me, Kayla. Talk to me."

She closed her eyes tightly. She wanted to cry, but there was not enough emotion left inside her to produce the tears. "Nothing happened," she whispered. "I just had a few words with my brother. Nothing big. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"He doesn't approve, does he," he asked.

She wondered how much he had heard. "No."

He leaned down and placed a brief, gentle kiss on her shoulder. He felt her body shudder at his touch. "What is his issue? I don't think it's brotherly over protectiveness, either. You may think I'm paranoid, but my intuition leads me to believe that he never approved from the beginning of our relationship. Everything you've denied has been because of your brother, hasn't it? But you've been going against his wishes for the most part. The only other thing you're denying right now is coming to live with me. Again, I ask. What is his issue? Why does he want you to deny happiness? Why does he not want you to have your own life?" She said nothing. Her body continued to shake and shudder. "Whatever is it," he began. "You can step away from it. You can leave it behind. However the game ends, Kayla, it's up to you."

"Yes," she whispered. "It is up to me, and I'm blowing it. I'm blowing it all." She buried her face into her pillow as the numbness grew weaker inside her. Yes. The feeling was coming back, doing so almost violently. "I don't know what to do," she cried, her voice muffled against the pillow. "I don't know where to turn. I have so many people pulling me into different directions, but I can't choose. I can't make a decision. _I don't know_."

Although her body was stiff and unyielding, he managed to turn her to her back. Her eyes were still closed and she was shaking her head. "Open your eyes and look at me," he commanded. When she didn't, his hand came out and rested gently against her cheek. "_Do it_." Reluctantly, she opened them. She wanted to shrink back from his gaze. It was almost hard, penetrative. "I do know one thing," he said. "You're not safe here." He didn't honestly believe that her brother would hurt her, but there were other ideas floating around in his mind. As he feared, there was something dreadfully wrong. "When I leave, you're coming with me. I won't hear or accept any arguments."

"Frank, I…"

He placed a finger against her lips. "What did I say? No arguments."

**111111**

By the time Kayla rose later that morning, Carson was not in the apartment. Kayla figured he had left for work and taken his laptop with him. She still didn't know what she was going to do, but she packed a few things, and left with Frank anyway. He made it clear he wasn't taking no for an answer. He took her to his house, staying with her long enough to ensure that she was settled in. After he was satisfied, he left her to go to the nest. It was time to dig more thoroughly into Tom Kipplinger.

**111111**

Donovan sat with the rest of the team, his brain filled with knowledge concerning Kayla's ex-boyfriend, knowledge that Cody had been gracious enough to dig up. Tom Kipplinger, age thirty-one, had two felonies, and a list of other dirty deeds on his record. When Donovan read the information, he noticed a connection, one so immediate that it sent his mind reeling. Kipplinger was running buddies with Kelly Dade. It was a name that Donovan was more than familiar with. Dade, a street thug, had excellent connections throughout Illinois. He helped run drugs, guns, and money. He also knocked off a couple of banks some ten years prior. Donovan had had a confrontation with Dade that ended in the man's death. After so many months, the entire Sideshow case was falling together like a grammar school puzzle. He didn't doubt that Kipplinger was directly involved with the heists. The key was finding the other players in the game. Now that the team had a nibble, it wouldn't be much harder to dig out the rest of the gang. He briefed the other members of the team about the clubs Kipplinger frequented and the fact that he was in a band. The one thing that was dismissed was Tom Kipplinger's school record. If it had been touched, or his yearbook delved into, Donovan would have recognized one of his classmates immediately. For now, he was happily oblivious to it.

As Jake and Alex looked inside the file folder each was given, Donovan gave further instructions. "I want you to follow this man," Donovan said. "Learn his moves, habits, and watch the people he associates with. The Sideshow has been silent for some time now, and soon, the group should hit again. Hopefully when they do, we'll know their every move. The man you're looking at might be the leader. If he isn't, we should know who is before long."

"Who turned you on to this guy, Boss?"

Donovan fixed his eyes on Jake for a very long moment. "A friend," he answered simply.

**111111**

Kayla had gotten Carson's phone call three or four hours ago, but she was stranded. She had gone to Frank's house without her car, and there was no way she was going to tell her brother where Frank lived. Although he was still livid about the situation, he had given her the details of what would be their last job. They would hit one of Chicago's largest banks. Once there, they would collect just enough money to take care of Brett. Carson didn't trust her, but he wanted her in on this job. Both knew it would be sticky without Tom, but they had little choice in the matter. Carson made it clear that this was it for their gang. She didn't realize then how prophetic her brother's words actually were. This job would be the downfall of many things.

**111111**

Donovan came into the house just after midnight. Before he went inside, he assumed that Kayla was still awake. The light in the living room was on. However, when he entered, he saw that she was on the sofa asleep. He hadn't spoken to her since he left her this morning, and he wasn't altogether certain that she would talk to him now. She had been in a seeming numb state when he left. Did he think it would be different now? He owed her a wealth of gratitude. Supplying Tom's last name had given the team just enough to play with to dig into a case that had had zero clues for months. But the thought was also unsettling. He still had doubts, doubts that killed his soul. Nothing they had uncovered today implicated her or her brother. He wanted to believe it was a perfect case of healthy paranoia. He wasn't prepared to lose her now, and he didn't know what he would do if he did.

He stepped around to the sofa and leaned over far enough to allow his lips to brush against her cheek. Her eyes came open and she gazed up at him. She sat up, giving him room to sit beside her if he wished. He did. Within moments, she was in the comfort of his embrace, her lips joined with his. He drew away reluctantly. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to show her. His heart actually ached.

"Are you okay," he asked.

She nodded. "I am now."

He kissed her gently, his hand going into her soft hair. He didn't want to let her go. In the very near future, when he thought back to this moment, he wondered if he had had some type of premonition, some _feeling _that what he cherished would soon be lost to him. He thought that perhaps, just _perhaps_, it might have driven him to blurt the words he could no longer contain. It would lead to nothing, of course, but again, he didn't quite know what the future held. All he knew right now, at this time, was that he couldn't imagine life without her. "Marry me."

Kayla's heart skipped a beat before pounding crazily in her chest. _No. Please oh please tell me he didn't just say what I think he said. Please. I can't take it. I can't answer it_. No matter what she told herself or what she did, it wouldn't change the fact that he had proposed to her. She was going to die. This was definitely going to be the death of her. She no longer had to worry about one last bank heist. She no longer had to worry about his uncovering her secret life. She would always worry about Brett, of course, but Carson would have the helm over that now. She would die and bury herself forever. Never to be seen again. It was exactly what she needed to do. _Escape. Escape. Run run run_. _Face nothing. Live a lie; live thousands of them. Whatever you do, just do not face the truth_.

When he was certain that she wasn't going to say anything, he kissed her again. "I know I sprung it on you," he said. "I don't expect an answer right now. I love you very much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Take all the time you need to decide."

With one final kiss, he left her sitting on the sofa. She watched as he climbed the stairs toward his bedroom. She didn't move until she heard the shower start. When she was relatively certain she was alone, she buried her face into her hands and finally had the cry she had been denying herself since the wee hours of the morning.

Kayla made her way upstairs a half hour later. By that time, Frank was out of the shower. He watched her carefully. Her eyes were red from crying. He said nothing, only continued to watch her. She went to the bed and sat down with her back facing him. Without hesitating, he climbed onto the bed behind her. Bringing his body up to his knees, his hands fell on her shoulders, caressing them. She sighed shakily as his hands moved up from her shoulders onto her neck. They slid along her throat, erasing tension and loosening her wound up muscles. She felt her head rolling slowly from side to side, turning in to his touch. The sensation was incredible. It was almost enough to make her believe that all was normal. But it wasn't. It wasn't even _close _to normal. Maybe for a few hours, she could forget it wasn't. She would allow the man she loved to touch her, to hypnotize her with his hands. She would put it all away. What harm would it do? Soon enough, she would face reality and allow it to bite her on the ass as hard as it wanted. Later. Much later. Right now, it was gone. Nonexistent.

Some time later, Kayla was tangled within Frank's embrace. He had fallen asleep hours ago, but she couldn't manage it, even after his unexpected massage. She listened to his heart beating, and it was as soothing as his hands. She waited a long time for him to fall asleep. In his current state, she figured she could say what she wanted, and he wouldn't remember it upon waking. It was okay to pour her heart out, to tell him how she really felt, what was going on in her mind, and in the deep chest of her secret heart. It was also okay for her to give him the answer he deserved to receive for his most unexpected proposal. It was okay to say and do so many things she couldn't fathom while he was awake. She tightened her hold on his body, and in his sleep, he reacted by tightening his own embrace about her.

"If my life was different, if I didn't have to think of Brett," she whispered. "I'd marry you in a heartbeat. So, my answer is yes." She wished it could be different, but there was no chance of that in this lifetime. "I love you, Frank. Forever."

****

**To be continued…**


	13. Shutting Down the Sideshow

**SHUTTING DOWN THE SIDESHOW**

Kayla entered the empty house. She didn't expect Frank to be home for a few more hours. She sighed heavily and dropped her key ring onto the small table next to the front door. She didn't exactly know what she was going to do next, but she honestly felt like crawling under the bed and hiding out from the world forever. But she couldn't do that. There was still so much to plan. There was still so much to skirt around. She had to be honest with herself. Now was not the time to play games. With another heavy sigh, Kayla moved over to the sofa and plopped down onto the cushions. She was so tired, so very tired. She closed her eyes and had every intention of going to sleep, but she couldn't. There was just too much going on. She was certain she was losing her mind.

Two weeks had passed since she moved in with Frank...since he proposed. Outside her confession in bed, she hadn't given him an answer one way or another. He hadn't pushed her for one, either, but she knew he deserved it. Yet, there was no way she could refuse. He would see the lie in her eyes. As she had thought millions of times, she had lied to him about so many things, and it wasn't getting any easier. In two days, the gang would strike its last bank. Kayla planned to be out of Frank's life forever. She had no idea how prophetic that thought was. No idea at all.

**121212**

Frank Donovan sat behind his desk. The last two weeks had been the most frustrating time since the team was asked to assist with the Sideshow case. At the beginning, he didn't think he would ever have those thoughts running rampantly in his mind, but after tracing every move made by one Tom Kipplinger, it was the only thing he could think. After a few days of learning the man's moves, Donovan had sent in both Alex and Jake to befriend him. He frequented an area rock club, sometimes performing with his mediocre band. The two agents had found him easily enough and went through the motions of becoming his good friends. However, the son of a bitch hadn't said word one about his affiliation, or lack thereof, with the Sideshow. It mattered little to him. He inherently_ knew_ there was a connection, and he was hell bent to find it. He was tired of playing games, and Tom's lack of information was severely pissing him off. It was time to have Tom picked up for some light questioning. The deeds in his past would be enough to justify it if Tom decided to cry foul, and he most certainly would. Men like him always did.

Donovan reached for his phone and made the call. When the conversation ended, he sat back in his chair once more. Absently caressing the nape of his neck, his thoughts wandered to another person who was thoroughly attached to him in more ways than one. His obsession with this case was unending, but so was his worry about Kayla. She had grown somewhat distant and withdrawn. He knew there was much weighing heavily on her mind, but she still wasn't allowing him to touch it. He thought he might have jumped the gun when he asked her to marry him, but again, it was something he felt Kayla wanted just as much as he. Yet, she was denying it, denying herself the happiness that she deserved. He didn't understand, but he had the prickling sensation that he would...and very soon.

Before Donovan entered the interrogation room at the local precinct, he stood in the observation room that the police used for witnesses to finger their suspects. There was a two-way mirror, of course, and he noticed that Tom Kipplinger made it no secret that he knew he was being watched. The ass seemed to enjoy the attention. For a long time, Donovan stood and simply watched the prick. He had yet to forget that this bastard had attacked Kayla twice, hurting her so very badly. He vaguely wondered if he was the right man for the job at this juncture. His rage boiled unchecked inside him, and he gritted his teeth against the poison that seemed to be tainting him. If he didn't get this shit worked out inside him, he would never be able to face Kipplinger without losing his grip.

**121212**

With a grin, Tom looked up as the door came open. His grin faded for about half a second when he recognized the person casually entering the room. However, he recovered quickly enough. It wasn't a good idea to show weakness at a time like this. How funny it was that the guy sauntering into the room happened to be Kayla's FBI boyfriend. He hadn't expected less, actually. When he was picked up an hour ago, he immediately assumed it was at the command of the surly, cold-blooded murdering federal agent. He would have some fun at this guy's expense, letting him know every step of the way that he had gotten to Kayla first. Oh yes. This would be a lot of fun. Afterward, it would be even more fun to sue his ass for having him picked up for nothing. He noticed that the guy didn't sit down. Instead, he stood close to the door, well away from the table. Tom couldn't help but wonder if the hotshot FBI dude was afraid that he'd pay him back for messing up his face. He had no true idea what was really going on inside Frank Donovan's mind. If he did, he might not have felt so damned cocky.

"Do you mind telling me why you picked me up? I hope the FBI has some damn fine lawyers," Tom said.

For a moment, the rage entered Donovan's body again. He contained it with everything he had in him. One errant move, and he would be all over this putrid piece of filth. "We've had a few run-ins, haven't we," he commented off-handedly. Before Tom had an opportunity to respond, Donovan plunged ahead. "But that's not truly why we're here today."

Tom chuckled bitterly. "Is that right, G-man? And why are we here today? Surely, it's not to talk about your little girlfriend, now is it? Could it be that we're talking about the huge amount of money I'm going to get when I sue your ass?"

Donovan clenched his jaw very briefly. He knew not to let Tom's words bother him. It was exactly what the ass was trying to accomplish. His sole purpose was to taunt and poke about Kayla. He couldn't let him push his buttons, not unless he wanted to fly into the man, injuring him bodily. "Ah, your lawsuit. Yes. Perhaps we can discuss that later after our conversation here today?" Donovan walked to the other side of the room before turning back and returning to the same spot. He noticed that Tom was watching him curiously, probably thinking him insane. "So we can discuss those other..._matters_, I'll just cut to the chase. I hate clichés, and I sense that a man with your _proclivities _must do so as well. But it seems to fit." Before continuing with his thoughts, he eyed Tom for an indeterminate amount of time. He could easily see that Tom still thought him insane. Good. "Before you begin harping on your civil rights and whether or not the Chicago police had probable cause to pick you up, you should be aware that I know all about your past. I know you've had a hand in a few bank robberies here and there. With that in mind, I can safely say it's more than enough for you to join us today to answer a few questions. Don't you agree?" He paused as if giving Kipplinger a chance to speak, and the man had actually opened his mouth to do so, but it wasn't his show. Today, the stage belonged to one man: Frank Donovan. Plunging full steam ahead, he asked, "What can you tell me about the Sideshow?"

Tom shook his head and smiled cockily. Inside, he was somewhat shaken up. How much did this federal dick know about the jobs? Did he know his girlfriend was one of the ringleaders? Of course he didn't. It was obvious in his demeanor. He apparently believed his little girlfriend was an innocent, sweet angel. For all his arrogance and venom, the murdering bastard was an idiot. Tom was close to giving Mr. Federal Agent the story of all stories. "What makes you think I know anything about that? Since the day you gunned down my buddy, I've been living a relatively clean life. Honest I have."

Donovan saw right through this man. He was more than tempted to jump him, but he had to control that impulse. "Yes, I'm sure," he commented dryly. "Let's just say that the FBI has been digging around and they, as well as I, believe that you are in the thick of it. I'm not promising to cut you a break or anything, but if I were you, I would change my tune." He smiled wryly. "Yet another cliché to add to the list." He gave Kipplinger a blank look. At that moment, there was no light or life in his eyes at all. It was a look that made most people cringe. "You're trying my patience," he said hollowly. "And I hate that more than anything, even one's use of tired clichés. I know your game, I've played it. Tell me what you know about the Sideshow."

"Wouldn't you rather hear what I know about Kayla," Tom asked pointedly. "I can tell you _lots _of stuff about her."

Donovan didn't flinch, but inside, his stomach was knotting up tensely. In the observation room, Alex stood by as well as a few Chicago cops. He didn't know about the cops, but he figured Alex would have questions, questions he was certainly not prepared to answer. "Sorry, that's out of my range right now," he said blandly. "I think you should stick to the topic at hand. I don't like repeating myself."

Tom smiled and ran his hands through his long, raven locks. "Is she? When you were beating the shit out of me, she seemed to be right in your range. Something tells me that you don't know much about Kay." He sighed. "Sure, you're doing her, but you're clueless. It's obvious and kinda sad if you want my opinion."

Rage painted Donovan's brown eyes black. "It will be my distinct pleasure to watch you rot in prison." Although unaware, those words would come back to haunt him in less than two days. His unchecked rage would be directed toward an unexpected source.

"Yeah, man, whatever," Tom said, disinterested. "You got nothing on me. Have your cop buddies let me go or I _will_ call my attorney and have all your badges in my grubby little paws."

At that moment, Donovan had to leave the room. If he didn't, he knew his hands would be around the other man's throat in split seconds. He would gleefully kill him without a thought as to what consequences awaited him. As he left the room, he slammed the door behind him. He was intent on getting the hell out of there. He had totally forgotten all about Alex. She came out of the observation room moments after he began storming toward the building's exit. He wanted to get outside in the fresh air and calm down before he lost his mind. Kipplinger was right. They had nothing solid on him, just a hunch here and there. _Damn it to hell._

"What was that about in there?"

Donovan focused his eyes on Alex's serene face. He had expected this to happen. His private life was his. It was almost sacred to him. Not sure how much he wanted to tell her, he shook his head. "We have a mutual acquaintance."

He said nothing else, didn't bother to expand on it. He continued on toward his truck parked only a few feet away. Kipplinger was the key to the gang. He had no doubt. One way or another, he would see to it that he paid for his misdeeds.

**121212**

Much later, Kayla was in bed when Frank came home. She was totally unaware of his presence until he slid into bed beside her. The instant she recognized his scent and touch, she turned toward him. She knew he had been giving him the cold shoulder lately, but he still held onto her. She didn't understand why he refused to give up on her._ He loves you, you stupid idiot. That's why_. He had stripped down to nothing, but his body was still warm and so very inviting. Tonight would probably be the last night they would be together, and she didn't know if she could let him go, but she had to do it. Without opening her eyes, she moved closer to him, her lips seeking his with a will almost their own. Her kiss was soft, but he quickly deepened it, kissing her hard, plunging his tongue into her sweet mouth. During the kiss, his body drifted over hers, and she felt every line, every muscle.

She broke the kiss after several long moments. She gazed up into his beautiful, beautiful eyes. "I love you so much," she whispered. "I know I haven't been at my best these last two weeks, and I'm sorry for that. This...this may sound corny or melodramatic, but you make me feel so alive. I've never felt like this before and I don't think I'll ever feel this way again."

After what happened today, there was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to ask, but it wouldn't come to the surface. Not just yet. "Kayla, are you planning to leave?"

She shook her head. It was another lie in an endless pack of them. "No."

Her answer was quick, almost too quick. The interrogator in him could not let it go. "You have to tell the truth. I can't protect you if you don't tell me the truth."

She moved away from him and sat up on the side of the bed. "What is this truly about, Frank?"

Her back was to him and he wasn't about to speak to her like this. Moving away from the bed, he came around to face her. As he had done numerous times, he kneeled before her, placing his body between her thighs. There was no way she could get away from him in this stance. "You don't know what you do to me."

"Or you to me," she whispered.

**121212**

As Donovan and Kayla spent their last night together, Tom Kipplinger was pretty busy himself. His band had performed tonight, and they had played badly. His talent far surpassed theirs, and he wasn't even sure why he messed with those losers anyway. He wasn't just irritated about the band. The meeting he had with that FBI jerk had him knotted up and tense. There was no way in hell he was going to take the downfall for something that had nothing to do with him anymore. He was more than tempted to call the ass and tell him that his permanent piece was one of the masterminds behind the whole operation. That thought comforted him, brought a smile to his face. He made moves to prepare to leave, but a familiar face stopped him. His smile broadened. It was Nigel's woman, Louisa. He hadn't seen her in a while, and especially hadn't since Carson booted him from the gang. It was time to make a connection. A good one.

Later, much later, Tom sat back in bed very proud of himself. He had gotten Louisa drunk on cheap rot gut whiskey. She fell into his bed willingly enough. After screwing her until he thought his body would dry up from fluid loss, he pretended to be drunk himself, and he told her all about the gang's next big job and Kayla's FBI lover. The information had sobered her right up. As much as Kayla before him, he knew Louisa was one of the weaker members of the gang. He wondered how long it would take for her to break. Tom laughed out loud and heartily. Goddamn, but he loved revenge.

**121212**

Kayla gazed down at her sleeping lover. After they made love, Frank held her close to him for many hours. She loved the comfort he offered, the warmth of his body, and the sincerity of his words. But she needed to get away. She waited for him to fall asleep, and when he did, she left his arms for what she was certain was the last time. She had then set about gathering enough clothing to do her. She hadn't brought much to Frank's house. This she had done on purpose, because she knew how the story would end. She had composed a note, and this she placed on the pillow she had been calling hers for two weeks. She wanted to touch him before she left, but realized it would be a very bad idea. He would awaken and immediately demand that she tell him what she was doing. Perhaps that was what she wanted to do. However, she could no longer delay the inevitable._ I love you, Frank. I hope that some day you can forgive me_. Without another sound, she turned and left the room.

She might have been out of the house a total of ten minutes when Donovan's eyes came open. Something had awakened him, some little noise. Perhaps it was the sound of Kayla's ancient, rattling car coming to life with a roar. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. If he had turned the other way, he wouldn't have seen the note. He would have probably knocked it down onto the floor, completely out of sight. But somehow, fate decided to be kind. He saw the note and instantly knew Kayla had lied to him about leaving. With impatient motions, he unfolded the single sheet of paper and began to read the words of one desperate Kayla Armstrong:

_Dear Frank,_

_I'm not sure you will understand this note or even why I'm writing it. But as you know, I did lie to you. I had to leave and take care of some unfinished business. You might never forgive me, but you will understand. You will probably think I'm lying again when I say that I love you very deeply, and my leaving is part of that love for you. It is the main reason why I left. You are a very thorough investigator, and knowing you the way I do, you will try to contact me. I ask that you don't. I won't answer my phone. I won't be at the apartment. What we had together was indescribable and I will never forget it or you as long as I live. Regardless of what happens in the next few days, always know that I love you. Forever. That is no lie. It never was. Remember that in the coming weeks._

_Love,_

_Kayla_

Donovan was very tempted to rip the note into a billion pieces, but he hesitated. She didn't want to be found, but he didn't care. He would find her, but it wouldn't be in the manner he thought.

**121212**

Carson and Kayla Falcon sat outside the huge main branch of Chicago Federal. They had each donned their freak show carnival masks for what would be the very last time. Carson glanced at his younger sister. Although her face was covered from view, it didn't take a genius to realize that she was uptight, upset, and sick. For the last two days, she had been leaning over a toilet bowl as if it were her long lost friend.

"Can you do this?"

Kayla turned her head toward her brother. His voice was muffled behind the ridiculous mask. "I can." Her stomach lurched sickly. She hoped she could get through this without vomiting. "I just want it over."

**121212**

Little did the Falcon siblings know, but their every move was being watched by half a dozen federal agents and an equal number of Chicago's finest. The anonymous call had come in ten minutes ago. It was a young man trying desperately hard to disguise his voice. Donovan already had Cody working on the recording, tearing it apart, searching for clues. He had no idea...just yet...that it was Tom Kipplinger. All he did know was that the voice had reported a possible robbery at Chicago Federal. _Look out for a large, white van. No windows_, the caller had said. _The ringleaders will be inside, preparing for their last job_.

Donovan was tense and wired. The last two days had been a living hell. Not only was he focused on the situation currently unfolding before him, but part of him couldn't keep out thoughts of Kayla. He had honored her request, hoping that she would change her mind. If she didn't, he would pursue her, regardless of what she asked him to do. He loved her, wanted to marry her, and he had no doubt that she wanted the same. He simply just couldn't give up and let her go. Distractedly, he shook his head. _Leave it behind. You have a job to do, and if this lead is legitimate, the Sideshow case will soon be history_. He had no idea that today would embrace him, encompassing the rest of his life. For now, he shoved it all aside. If this vehicle did indeed contain the ringleaders of the Sideshow, then there was no way in hell he could lose his focus. After this job was done, he would follow his heart.

He held his breath as the doors of the van came open. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. Frank Donovan seemed to be on two planes of existence. One plane was totally focused on the van. The other was forcing him to listen to Cody's voice inside his ear. Later, he would think back to this moment, and wonder if he had somehow known how today would turn out. Two bodies emerged, both swaddled in black, both with their heads totally covered by hideous carnival masks. One was a man. The other a woman. The lead was dead on. It wasn't a fluke or someone reaching for his fifteen minutes of fame. Suddenly, Donovan realized that it wasn't Tom Kipplinger behind the mask. It was someone else. Perhaps a moment too late, he realized that it was Tom Kipplinger who had made the call, and Donovan had been dead wrong to believe he was behind the Sideshow. He didn't have time to process the complex thoughts threatening to consume him. The moment two armed members of the Sideshow came out into the open, he heard an indignant bellow: _FREEZE!!!!_ Horrified, he realized it was one of his own. The time for reprimanding the agent would come later. After all, they had all gone through the wringer for this case, and everyone was impatient and on edge. However, calmness was not the catch phrase of the day. The moment Jake's roar reached the ears of the robbers, the man turned toward the voice and raised a small handgun.

It was in that split second that Kayla Falcon looked up. For the first time today, she noticed that they were surrounded by a horde of surly law enforcement personnel. One individual caught her attention in particular._ Frank!_ She opened her mouth to scream out to her brother. He had drawn down on a federal agent. His life was about to be forfeit. Yet, she couldn't stand by and see her brother gun down the man she loved. No sound could reach her. Not yet. The shock and horror of the situation was far too intense. The next thing she heard was the sound of a gun firing and the unmistakable report of return gun fire. Carson had shot the young agent and he went down, but before he could dive out of the way, the agent fired back. Kayla wasn't sure who was hit where, but both men went down.

Donovan gritted his teeth angrily. They didn't need this. They really didn't. Rather harshly, more so than he intended, he barked. "Jake? What the hell? Were you hit?"

"It's okay, Boss," Jake spat furiously. "Stupid shit shot me in the ass. Graze wound. It didn't penetrate the flesh."

Vaguely, Donovan heard a brief quip from Cody: "Glad you're all right, Agent Shaw. Should we change the name of the gang from Sideshow to the Ass Bandits?"

"Cut the shit," Donovan barked again. "Shots fired. One agent down. One suspect down. Move in..."

Before he could finish his sentence, movement from ahead drew his attention. He thought the fallen suspect's partner was going to fire back in kind. However, she went down to her knees beside the man. Donovan froze, his body more wired than ever before. He had drawn his own weapon without realizing it. The woman took hold of her partner's gun, but she didn't fire. Instead, she did something completely unexpected. She raised her head and screamed out:_ CARSON! Nooooooo!_ It was then that Donovan's body stopped working, his mind went numb, and he felt nothing. The voice. The name._ No. It can't be_. She brought her body up slowly to her feet, never releasing her hold on the handgun. She turned toward him. Again, he had the feeling that everything was moving in slow motion. Time stood still, but droned on and on at the same time. His heart grew cold, solid, much like a block of ice. He felt nothing. He was nothing. When she faced him, she took hold of the mask and showed him her face. She held an intense gaze with him for a very short time, but it seemed like hours. Donovan didn't care. He felt nothing. He was nothing. Perhaps he would awaken from this nightmare. Perhaps she would shoot him and end this incredible, biting pain. Perhaps the shock itself would kill him and he wouldn't have to face the fact that this woman, the one he wanted to marry, the one who had shared his bed, the one who had shared his life, was a criminal...a criminal he detested...a criminal who had literally given him life and made it hell at the same time._ Kayla..._

Outside himself now, Donovan barely heard the words drifting into his ear. It was Cody again. This time with more news. "Word just in. We have a confession from one of the gang members. The leaders are brother and sister. Carson and Kayla Falcon."

Donovan heard nothing. He had to remind himself that he felt nothing, that he was nothing. He heard one name over and over in his mind:_ Kayla..._

**To be continued...**


	14. Polston State Prison

**POLSTON STATE PRISON**

**Back to the Present**

Donovan stood in his office busily getting a few things together before he left for Polston. He was completely engrossed in his task, and had no clear idea that Alex stood silently observing him. He probably wouldn't have noticed her at all if he hadn't turned slightly. For a very long moment, he ignored her. He simply continued getting his affairs in order before he hit the road. If the truth were known, he was avoiding her. It was harsh, but the truth. He figured he knew what she was going to say, and he wasn't prepared to go into it with her. Not now. Not ever. He had been playing his avoidance game quite well. It seemed the only person who could crack his shell was Em. After leaving court about a week ago, they had talked long into the night, but it still didn't change much. Em continued to call, but he also continued to skip her messages. He had opened up, but it still didn't mean he wanted to talk about it any more than necessary. And now, it was apparent that one of his own team members was getting into the mix as well. Bottom line was that his heart still ached and Kayla was still in prison._ Same shit. Different day_. He had read that line in a Stephen King novel, and it was never more apt in his life than it was right at that moment.

"I suppose you're not going to speak to me first, so I should make the first move," Alex began.

Donovan stopped what he was doing for a split second and focused his eyes on her face. "I'd advise you not to," he said gruffly. "I don't want to go into it if that's okay."

He was different. Angry. Bitter. Colder than ever before. Something had definitely happened to him when they apprehended Kayla Falcon. All of them had noticed, but Alex's heightened sensibilities detected the pain right away. "I won't go into it, but I couldn't help but notice the name 'Kayla' mentioned more than once since this case began," she said calmly. "I believe it to be too much of a coincidence to dismiss. I've been where you are, and I know how difficult it is. There is nothing to win in a situation like this. Everyone loses."

"Alex, I..."

"I know," she said, interrupting him. "You don't want to talk about it. I know how sacred your private life is to you. We all respect that. I just wanted you to know I understand. Don't let it rule you or poison you. I think what you're doing today is a good thing. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

**131313**

It had been right around a week since Kayla was transported to her new home in Polston, Illinois. _And I have hundreds more to go_, she thought. During her first week, Kayla had alternated worrying about Brett and pining for Frank Donovan. She longed to apologize for what she had done to him, but she was certain he would never accept. Then there was Brett. Since Frank's agent had shot and killed her brother, and she was in here, Brett was all alone. Dora was there, of course, but she wasn't family. She wasn't who Brett needed most. The thoughts killed her, but she had brought it all on herself. She deserved it. She did not doubt that. Maybe if she contacted Frank...told him about Brett, he would help. _Maybe nothing, Falcon. He hates me. He would never help me, even if the help is for Brett_.

Kayla was in the process of writing Brett a long letter when a female guard paused in front of her cell. "Falcon, you have a visitor. You've got fifteen minutes to get yourself ready."

She looked up at the guard. Had she flipped her lid? Polston allowed twice weekly visits. Last week, she was told that prisoners with no visitors had free time on those days, and Kayla spent it writing letters. "A visitor," she asked stupidly.

"You got it. Get yourself ready. I'll be back in fifteen."

As promised, the guard returned after fifteen minutes to take her to see her visitor. It was another thing Kayla found strange. Polston had a large area for visitation in one gigantic room, but the guard totally bypassed that section. She led her toward the consultation rooms normally used for semi-private visitations between attorneys and their clients. Kayla did not understand or know why her attorney would bother to visit. There were no appeals for her. She didn't want them. As soon as the guard opened the door to the small room, Kayla's confusion ended. It was quickly replaced by deep hurt and sorrow. Her visitor was the man she loved, the one she had hurt so very badly. _Damn you Frank Donovan. Damn me even more_.

Donovan stood in the room glancing at the portraits on the wall of past and present wardens. When the guard led Kayla into the room, he focused his attention on her, noticing that she was dressed in Polston's standard issue: denim pants and a matching button-down shirt. She had tied her hair back into an impatient ponytail. She wore no make up, but was still heart achingly beautiful. This woman, the one he had wanted to marry...to bear his children...stood no more than a few feet from him, but she was a continent away. For a brief moment, fresh anger swelled inside him, and he was tempted to leave. He fought it mightily. He came for answers, and he wouldn't leave without them.

Once the guard stepped outside, Kayla approached a small table in the center of the room and sat down in one of the chairs parked before it. She noticed Frank had yet to move away from the portraits. His demeanor was still stiff and he was quite unreachable. He appeared tired and worn down. _She _had done this to him. _She _had lied to him dozens of times and shattered his heart. She longed to approach him and hold him in her arms. He wouldn't stand for that, and Polston personnel would probably descend on her faster than she could blink.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she croaked out, "Frank? What are you doing here?"

He turned to face her. He didn't join her at the table. If he did, it would be all over. _Control_. He must maintain control. "It's not time for you to ask questions," he said. "_I _need to do that first. I think I deserve it." He sighed heavily and rubbed the nape of his neck. There were many things he wanted to ask, but wasn't sure he could approach the matters closest to his heart. Instead, he dove into standard, hurtful shit. He was certain he would hate himself after this. "You had yourself a nice little operation, didn't you? You seemed organized, and the crimes were well thought out. Weren't they? All told, I think your gang scored well over six figures, maybe more. Although there were many members of your gang, you still had quite a lucrative share of your own. Where did you funnel the money? If you kept it, I never saw evidence of its use."

He wanted to talk about the case. _Evidence_. His focus was evidence. She knew he was trying to avoid the touchier of subjects, but it still hurt to hear him speak so coldly. "Would you sit down," she asked tentatively. "I want to tell you everything, but I at least want to speak to you eye to eye."

He didn't want to honor her request. He was in full interrogation mode. After glaring at her blankly, he finally approached the table and sat down. He did so stiffly, almost stately. His body was wound up tight. Inside, he felt like a ticking time bomb. If she didn't tell him what he wanted to know, he would leave here, and never return. "Tell me, Kayla. Tell me _everything_."

"Remember when I told you I had one brother and one sister?" At the slight nod of his head, she continued, "Carson and I have a younger sister. Her name is Brett and she's thirteen years old. Almost two years ago, Brett became very ill. For nearly a year, we took her from one doctor to another until she was finally diagnosed with a rare form of juvenile cancer. The doctors told us that without treatment, she might have six months to live. They also told us about a specialist in Louisiana who had treated this type of cancer before. He was the best of the best. Brett's only hope.

"Our parents died years ago in a car accident and they left us penniless with no insurance. Brett's treatments and care would cost thousands. We didn't have the money or any way to get it, but we took Brett to Louisiana anyway and left her in the care of a family friend, Dora Pennington. We were desperate and out of options. Everywhere we turned, we ran into brick walls. We were afraid to go to social services, because they would have taken her away from us. We had no guardianship papers, nothing official.

"The first job, Carson pulled by himself. It was always supposed to be his deal, but we weren't making a dent in Brett's medical expenses. So, he began to recruit friends of his to help out. He was very paranoid and careful. He selected the most nondescript people. Tom was the exception to the rule. He believed that the more people we had, the longer we could work without detection. I agreed to help out, because I was willing to do anything to save my sister's life. We hit only small banks and took just enough money to send to Dora where it wouldn't look overly suspicious. Whatever shares were left after dividing them amongst the gang was immediately sent to Louisiana. I'm sorry, Frank. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through, but I'm not sorry for trying to help my sister."

There were tears in her eyes, but she was fighting them. Her words sank into his brain and latched on. God help him, but he didn't trust it. Didn't trust _her_. He shook his head. "That is an incredible story. I don't know if I can believe it," he said after a long time.

She nodded. "I expected as much. You can call Dora in Louisiana and she will verify it all. I'll even give you the name of the hospital." A heavy sigh left her. "Frank, you don't owe me any favors, but I have to ask. Carson is gone and I'm here. Brett has no one now. Please help my sister. Don't do it for me. Do it for her. She has done nothing wrong. Don't let my deeds or failures poison your mind against her."

Almost abruptly, he moved away from the table. He turned his back to her. He was trying his damned best to control his emotions, but he was losing the battle. He faced her again with blazing eyes. "Why didn't you come to me, Kayla? Why didn't you tell me this before? I could have helped you."

His last five words were bitten out behind clenched teeth. She wanted to shrink back from the anger and devastation so evident in his eyes. She shook her head. "It was already too late by the time I met you. You only could have helped me get to prison that much sooner. It may be too late for us, Frank, but it's not too late for Brett. I_ am_ asking for your help_ now_."

Overwhelmed now and completely out of his element, Donovan honestly did not know what to do. He slowly approached the table and sat down again. He watched as Kayla wiped away her tears as if embarrassed. "I don't know if I could ever forgive what you've done, not only to me, but to yourself, and us," he began slowly, hurtfully. "Perhaps I do owe you more than you believe or feel I do. I can't back away from your request, but I also can't make any solid promises. You give me the information, I'll check it out, and see what I can do."

Her tears began again, this time falling freely and unchecked. "Thank you, Frank," she managed to say. She knew he probably didn't totally believe her, but she also knew his words held weight. A lot of it. "You don't know what this means to me."

He was ever so tempted to reach across the table and grasp her hand. He didn't. As he had thought many times before after Kayla's arrest, it was yet another bad idea in a long line of them. "I think I do."

**131313**

Two weeks passed before Kayla heard word back from Dora. When she did receive a letter, it not only thrilled her, but also tore her to pieces:

_Dear Kay,_

_Brett's strength has increased enough and Dr. West will perform surgery in two days. We met a friend of yours a few days ago. He said his name was Frank and he personally delivered another cashier's check from you. How did you manage this kind of money, Kay? This fellow spent a long time with Brett, telling her all about how he met you. Brett was delighted, of course. He made her laugh so hard, she nearly cried. He left after a few hours, but promised to return. I think Brett took an instant liking to him, and you know how picky she is. He's a good man, Kay. You're lucky to have him on your side._

_Always,_

_Dora_

Yes. She was lucky. Indeed.

**131313**

Donovan entered his living room with a handful of mail. He slapped it down onto the coffee table, content to leave it lying for now. However, two pieces drew his attention, and he couldn't quite ignore them. One was a brief note from Brett Falcon thanking him for visiting her. He smiled a little. Kayla's little sister was very sweet. She reminded him so much of Kayla, it hurt. He remembered their visit, recalled the things he had told her, and it brought a fresh rush of pain. He only wished he could feel what he felt for Kayla freely again. He only wished there was more he could have done.

The other piece of mail was from Polston State Prison. He sat and stared at the envelope for a long time. He wasn't certain he wanted to see or read it. The hurt was still so very biting and fresh. However, curiosity won out. He tore open the envelope and slid the letter out of its remains. Its contents were heartbreaking:

_Dear Frank,_

_It has taken me a few weeks to get the courage to write this letter. Dora wrote and told me what you did for Brett. Words cannot express what that means to me. It is one of many debts that I do not know if I can ever repay. I owe you more than you know. _

_I want to apologize for all that I have done to you. Whether you believe it or not, I still love you very much. I only wish I had met you two years ago. If I had, I would have laid all my trust in you. In our love for each other. I would have grudgingly allowed you to protect me. I would have allowed myself to love you freely. I wouldn't have made such a desperate choice. I would have done so much, but it's too late for that now. Thank you for all you've done, for all you've given me. I hope that one day, you can forgive me._

_Love,_

_Kayla_

Donovan stared at the letter for an hour or more, trying to burn her words into his brain. What was he going to do now? What _could _he do?

**131313**

It had been a long year for Kayla. She spent her time doing time. In between her mundane manual labor, and her day to day life locked away, she received updates about Brett every two weeks without fail. It wasn't Dora who did this for Kayla. It was Frank. Apparently, he had grown fond and protective of her younger sibling. From Brett's own correspondence, it seemed as if the feeling was mutual. Brett had certainly fallen in love with Kayla's 'friend.' The teenager had even begun to refer to him as 'Uncle Frank.' All of her surgeries had gone well and it appeared that Brett would make a full recovery. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Kayla was in the middle of writing Brett when a guard appeared to let her know that she had a visitor. Kayla wasn't surprised. Frank made monthly visits, mostly to tell her about Brett. He always managed to secure one of the semi-private rooms. Although most of their conversations centered around Brett, Kayla had no idea that Frank actually came to see her as well. But he never said that. Kayla remained oblivious.

Silently, Kayla followed the guard to the room. The moment she was in plain view of the room's occupants, she heard an excited squeal. Were her eyes betraying her or did she see her little sister with Frank? Kayla had barely gotten into the room before Brett threw herself into her sister's arms. The girl was still a bit frail and was wearing a multicolored bandanna to cover her super short hair, but she was the most beautiful thing Kayla had ever seen. The tears came then. She couldn't stop them no matter how hard she tried. Regardless of what happened, she realized that she had few regrets about the path she chose. It was all worth it. Her one regret would always be hurting Frank Donovan.

Much later, Kayla indulged Brett's desire for a soda. The machine was just down the hall and her stubborn sibling insisted on going alone. Brett truly wanted to leave the two of them alone for a minute or so. After the guard assured Kayla that she would keep her eye on the girl, she relented.

"She looks wonderful, Frank," Kayla said. Damned if she wasn't getting choked up again.

For a long moment, Donovan gazed at her. Each time he came, Kayla looked a little different. Today, it seemed as if her hair had grown even more. It was hard to tell since she always wore it tied back. He longed to see it down. "She does," he agreed. "And she's a wonderful girl."

She nodded. "Yes. Incredible strength for one so young. I'm so overwhelmed that she's here, Frank. How will I ever repay you? You didn't walk away when many men would have. I don't know what to say."

Giving in to the temptation he had fought for twelve months, he reached across the table and took her hand. He noticed how she jerked almost imperceptibly. The move threw her off. "Say nothing. It's not necessary. I not only did it for her, but you as well. The letter you sent a year ago, Kayla, I did read it." He looked down for a brief moment before focusing his eyes on her face again. He shook his head before saying, "I'm not angry with you anymore. It took a long time, but I worked it out and released it. Most importantly of all, Kayla, I do forgive you. I didn't think I ever would, but I do. If I had met you before this happened, I would have done everything in my power to help you. Since I didn't and couldn't, I'm doing what I can now. I, too, betrayed you."

She shook her head. "No, Frank. You didn't. I gave you no options. You did what you were supposed to do. I'm here because I did something wrong. I broke the rules. I've never held any ill will against you. _Never_."

He tightened his grip on her hand. "But I hold it against myself."

"You shouldn't," she said quietly. "What you've done for Brett overshadows all."

"Kayla, I didn't do it solely out of guilt," he said softly.

There was more he wanted to say, to add to it, but he wasn't ready for that. Kayla understood. "I know. For what it's worth, Frank, I feel the same."

He opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped speaking when Brett reentered the room. He didn't release Kayla's hand for a long time.

Tearful goodbyes were shared between the sisters a few hours later. When Kayla released her hold on Brett, she turned toward Frank. She knew he might protest, but she couldn't help it. She embraced him and was stunned when he reciprocated. He closed his eyes and held her tightly.

"Thank you, Frank. For everything...past, present, and future."

He pulled away after a moment and gazed down at her. _Future_. She had mentioned the word future. How would he tell her there might not be one? He had to be careful when arranging these visits. At any time, his secret could be leaked. He hadn't told anyone the true reason he kept contact with a felon, why he took trips to Louisiana, or why he insisted on bringing a teenager into the prison. No one knew these things. Neither Brett nor Kayla knew that he kept these visits a semi-secret. Neither Brett nor Kayla knew that he was jeopardizing his own way of life. And he would never tell them. He couldn't. He would never tell Kayla, because she would make him stop. And he didn't want to stop. He _wouldn't _stop, not until his hand was forced. It was one thing he would do his own way, allowing Kayla to always believe nothing different. If he had to do it for ten full years, so be it. Her sentence was his as well.

**To be continued...**

**A/N: "Same shit, different day" was used in honor of one of my favorite authors in the novel _Dreamcatcher_. NO infringement intended.**


	15. Brett's Graduation

**BRETT'S GRADUATION**

Kayla glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly two in the morning. She didn't know what she was worried about. Brett was a grown woman now, about to graduate college, but it didn't matter. She still worried about her baby sister. Kayla was simply relieved that she had been released from Polston two full years early so she could be there for her sister. She gave up on going back to sleep. She flipped on the bedside lamp, sat up, and grabbed a book she had been trying to read, but her mind soon wandered away.

She knew Brett had invited Frank to her graduation, but she didn't know if he would show up. He had been a constant in Brett's life throughout her teenage years, but she had lost touch with him in recent months. Although Brett hadn't elaborated, she had mentioned that she didn't think Frank worked with the FBI. She couldn't deny that she wanted to see him again. He had continued visiting her monthly at Polston until Brett turned eighteen. After that, his visits were infrequent, but he always managed to write. It was always painful reading his letters. There was still so much left unresolved. He had become so very important to Brett, but he was also still important to her as well. She had unending feelings for him, and thought of him every day.

Kayla looked up when she heard the front door opening. A moment later, Brett came into her room. "You have fun," Kayla asked.

Brett nodded. "Yup. Did you hear from Uncle Frank yet?"

Kayla shook her head. "No. I don't think I'm who he would call."

Brett smiled. "Sure he would, Kay. I think he still loves you."

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry to say, Brett, but that's ancient history. Besides, I don't even know if he's aware I'm out."

"If he didn't find out on his own, I'm sure he found out in my letter with the invitation. I told him you were out."

"You would," Kayla accused lightly. "I do hope he attends, because I know you're looking forward to seeing him again."

Brett approached the bed and sat down at the foot. "And you're not?"

She sighed heavily and ran her hands through her hair. "What do you think? Of course I want to see him, but he's gone on with his life, and I'm just not a part of that."

When Brett was old enough to understand, Kayla had told her about her affair with Uncle Frank. Since then, Brett made it a point to try and intervene between them. She wanted both of them to be happy, but to be happy _together_. She knew they still had feelings for each other. Of course, Uncle Frank had never come out and said anything blatantly, but the wistful way he spoke of Kayla made his feelings very obvious.

"I suppose we'll see about that if he shows up for my graduation. I'm beat, Kay. Must go to bed before I fall out on the floor."

**141414**

Everything in the house was packed up and ready for shipping. What couldn't be shipped would be held in storage. Donovan hated letting the house go. He had loved it here, but it was definitely time for a change. He glanced at his wristwatch, noting that his flight was due to leave in about four hours. He had some time to kill before he had to leave for the airport, but he knew he would wind up leaving early anyway. All he could do was stare down at the graduation invitation Brett had sent him. Of course, it wasn't just the invitation that had garnered the most attention from him. It was the note included. Brett had written not only to give him details about the ceremony, but also to let him know that Kayla had been given an early release. _She's out of prison_, Brett had written. _And she now lives with me in Louisiana_.

Despite the circumstances, despite the hurt, Donovan had continued making visits with Brett as often as he could manage. Once Brett became old enough to make the trip to Polston without an adult escort, his visits ceased. But it wasn't because Brett no longer needed him. He longed to go, longed to see Kayla, to be close to her in that tiny semi-private room. They often spoke of Brett during those visits, but it was also his chance to be near her. However, it had begun to be more and more difficult to make the trip to Polston, to justify his presence there.

It had been easy enough at first. The other members of the Sideshow were still loose and scattered about Chicago. If it took visits to the prison to get more information, then it was granted without question. But he never tried to extract information from Kayla. Yet, the pieces of the puzzle fell together as if all the planets were aligned for it. The remaining members of the gang tried to regroup after Carson Falcon's death and Kayla's incarceration. All of them were caught, including the new ringleader, Tom Kipplinger. They had all gone to different prison systems. The last Donovan had heard, Kipplinger had met a particularly brutal demise within months of his incarceration. He had done enough damage beforehand to cause a major disruption in Donovan's life.

Trying desperately to save his yellow hide, Kipplinger had told prison officials about Kayla's involvement with Donovan. There had been no investigations, no Internal Affairs involvement. But it hadn't faded to black. Instead, Donovan was quietly reprimanded. His superiors took the information and laid it out as an unfortunate situation where he was used for his knowledge about the case. Donovan truly wanted to argue against it, but he didn't. He had unofficially decided to continue the visits, but he was warned that if he did and was caught, his career with the FBI was finished.

To appease his superiors and fulfill his own desire to keep contact with Kayla, he tapered off on the visits, but continued writing her, always careful to keep his words focused on Brett or other topics that wouldn't arouse suspicion. He knew correspondence that Kayla received and sent was monitored, but he was trusted enough within the fold to avoid close scrutiny. It killed him to have to do this, but he followed protocol and waited for the day when Kayla would be released.

And now, today, it mattered little what he did, where he went, or whom he chose to see. He hadn't heard directly from Kayla for a long time, but Brett often kept in close contact. There were no rules when it came to Brett. He could contact her as often as he liked, and did so with regularity up until a few months ago. It had been eight long years since Kayla was locked away. Now both of them were free with no constraints. Dare he try to see her or should he simply allow her to live her life without his presence and further interference? He would soon learn that the decision was completely out of his hands.

**141414**

The next morning, Brett was sprinting across campus when she heard her name called. She stopped and turned around. When she recognized the owner of the voice, she smiled broadly. "Uncle Frank," she cried. She went to him and hugged him fiercely. "You made it," she said as she released her hold on him.

He smiled down at her. "Of course I did. I wouldn't think of missing your graduation."

"How did you find me here?"

"I tried your apartment first, but no one was home. I had an appointment here, and I just ran into you as I was leaving."

"An appointment? Here," she asked in confusion.

He nodded. "Yes. I'm relocating from Illinois. I'll be teaching here in the fall."

"That's great." She took his hand. "Come with me. I was just heading out for a cup of coffee."

She gave him no time to protest. He allowed her to drag him across campus to a small diner. The sign outside said _Hughie's_. He had no idea why she brought him here until his eyes fell on the waitress behind the counter. Kayla. She hadn't noticed him yet, and he took the time to look at her without her knowledge. Time had been kind to her. Although she had aged some, she basically looked the same. Her hair was still bright, shiny, and shaded honey blonde. There were a few tiny lines here and there, but she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

Kayla turned when Brett called out to her. The moment she saw Frank, she drew in a shocked breath. He was gazing at her steadily. There was a little more gray in his hair, but other than that, he hadn't changed much. In fact, she thought he looked better, more relaxed, and even more appealing than ever before. She afforded a brief glance in Brett's direction. Her sister was smiling, her eyes glinting mischievously.

The two of them approached the counter. Before either of them could sit down, Brett turned slightly. "Oh wow. Imagine that. I know that guy over there. If you'll excuse me."

Both Kayla and Donovan watched Brett flounce away with smiles on their faces. "Yes," Kayla said wryly. "Imagine that."

Donovan turned to look at Kayla. "She's a great kid."

His eyes. They were still do deep and expressive. "That she is. You are a great influence on her, Frank. She really wanted you to be here."_ So did I_.

_How about you_? "I wouldn't have missed it for the world." Shifting gears, he said, "You look really good. I had no idea you were being released early."

She nodded. "Yeah, I've not been out long. And you look really good, too." Nervously, Kayla fiddled with a container of sugar. She stopped before she dropped it. "What are you doing now? Same thing?"

He shook his head. "No. I left about a year ago. One of my colleagues was killed in the line of duty. After that, it wasn't the same. I've relocated here. I'll be doing some teaching at the university where Brett attends."

Kayla longed to ask if he had done so to be near, but she shook it away._ Why_ would he relocate for_ her_? It was a ridiculous thought. "I'm sorry to hear that one of your colleagues was killed. That's terrible. As far as your new job, you might run into Brett occasionally. She's going to graduate school."

"What about you?"

She shrugged. "Not much. I work here now and I'm trying to save enough to go to college myself. I never went." She bit her lip. She didn't want to lie, but she also didn't want him to know she was pining away, even after so much time had passed. "I'm engaged to the owner."

Donovan nodded almost solemnly. Why did her words seem to cut him open? "Congratulations," he said. "I'm married and I have two small children."

_Oh kill me now_. "That's great, Frank. You truly deserve to be happy." Why had he not told her about his marriage? Why had he not at least told Brett? "I really need to get back to work. It was nice seeing you again."

When Brett saw Donovan leaving the counter, she went over to him and walked him out. "How did it go," Brett asked once they were outside.

He smiled down at her a trifle sadly. "You are a sneaky little busybody, aren't you?" He shook his head. "I don't know. I messed up. She told me about her engagement, and I told her I was married with two children."

Brett gave him a confused look. "Kayla? Engaged?"

He nodded. "Yes. To the owner."

She shook her head and laughed. "Oh. That's rich. The owner prefers lovers of his own gender. She was a little dishonest. She didn't want you to know that she still has feelings for you. And you told her you were_ married_? What's wrong with you guys?"

Donovan sighed. It was much too late to go back. "It's complicated."

"I know. What do you think I've been hearing since I was old enough to get it? Hell, I knew something was going on when I was fourteen. Look, you big dope," she began. "The ceremony is going to be held outside. When it's over, take my sister for a walk. Tell her the truth. You've both waited long enough, and now it's time to resolve this."

"Brett, it's not so easy. You can't know everything that happened."

"No," she said. "You're right. But I know enough. You've both suffered tremendously because of this, and I'm tired of seeing the two most important people in my life in pain. Just take a walk with Kayla and talk to her. Please, Uncle Frank, just_ try_."

He chuckled and shook his head. "You're quite persuasive, Brett Falcon. Have you thought of going to law school?"

She smiled and gave him a wink. "I start in June."

**141414**

Although Kayla had promised herself that she wouldn't cry, she couldn't keep the tears from falling when Brett accepted her degree. All she could see was that deathly ill little girl she had once been. On automatic now, Kayla reached over to Frank sitting beside her. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. If it hadn't been for him, Brett wouldn't have made it this far. She again wondered how she was ever going to repay him. She felt her tears welling again when he squeezed her hand in return. She looked at him and mouthed a silent 'thank you.' He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it briefly.

When the main ceremony was over, Brett remained within a group of her friends. Kayla was about to approach her sister, but Frank stopped her. She gazed at him quizzically. "Walk with me," he said. "Brett will be tied up for hours."

Knowing that he had a point, Kayla nodded and silently fell in beside him. They walked slowly, deliberately. Kayla caught herself glancing sideways at Frank every so often. He seemed to be lost in thought and she wanted to speak to him, but she didn't know what to say. There was so much to say, she wouldn't know where or how to begin. So she said nothing. She simply walked along beside him and took in the scenery. The campus was beautiful and very green. It was still technically spring, but the weather was already warm and humid. Kayla was almost tempted to ask him why he hadn't brought along his wife, but she bit her tongue. She didn't want to see him with his wife or children. She couldn't take it.

"You shouldn't have thanked me," he said suddenly. "I don't deserve any more praise or credit than you."

He smiled inwardly when Kayla nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. It was one thing about her that would never change regardless of her age. It was still an endearing trait. How he longed to tell her he was sorry...for everything. How he longed to erase the past.

"Frank, if you hadn't intervened in her life eight years ago, we wouldn't be here right now celebrating such an incredible achievement. You didn't have to do any of this, and it amazes me how much you care for her to help her like this. As I've told you before, any other man in this situation would have turned his back. But you didn't. She is who she is today mostly due to_ your_ influence. I was away in prison and I could do nothing for her, but you did. I'll never forget what you've done for her."

"I did it for you, too, you know," he said. They stopped walking at that point so they could face each other. "You made a huge sacrifice for her, Kayla. She's very lucky to have you...someone who loves her so much that she was willing to offer her freedom in exchange for her sister's life." He grew silent for a moment to garner enough courage to finish his thoughts. "The note you left two days before your arrest...do you remember what you said?"

She nodded, feeling fresh tears welling in her eyes. "Every word."

"I do, too, Kayla. I never thought I'd understand, but now, I do. I don't know if I would have had the courage to make the choices you did. I can't even say it was wrong, not anymore. What I do know is that you filled my life with so many incredible gifts. You allowed me to touch a piece of your past. You allowed me to know true love. And you allowed me to be in your life even after I aided in its ruination. For that,_ I_ owe_ you_."

She fought her tears away. She had never cried so much in her life. "I've told you before, and I'm telling you again, I don't blame you for anything, Frank. Always know that. You have given me the same gifts and the most precious one of all is the woman that Brett has become. And it's all due to you. You are the most incredible man I have ever known. I only wish I could have always known you." She sighed shakily. "I lied to you, Frank. I'm not engaged. I don't even know why I said that."

He smiled a little. "Brett told me. I think I know why you said it. Probably for the same reason I did. I'm not married. I don't have children."

Kayla laughed. "What a stinker my sister is. She worked really hard to throw us together like this, didn't she? And speaking of Brett, I really should get back."

He said nothing. He stood back and allowed her to move a few steps toward the graduating seniors. "Kayla." She stopped and turned around to face him. She waited expectantly. "Eight years ago, you said yes. You thought I was asleep, but I heard you. I always wanted to ask you about your words. Circumstances didn't quite allow it."

"No. They didn't." Kayla looked down for a moment before meeting his steady gaze again. "Frank, do you believe in giving people second chances?"

Her question was tentative and completely unexpected. "I don't know," he said. "The opportunity has never presented itself until now."

She approached him again and stood before him. "Would you consider a dinner invitation? I can still cook a mean dish of chicken and dumplings."

His smile returned and broadened. "I'd love to."

"Now I think I should_ really_ get back."

She attempted to move away again, but he took hold of her hand. She gazed up into his lovely, lovely eyes. She said nothing, but she knew what he was going to do, and absolutely couldn't wait. The moment his lips touched hers, it felt as if no time had passed. His kiss was gentle, but still so very sweet and passionate. Although it appeared as if they were starting anew, it truly felt as if they never parted.

**To be continued...**


	16. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

**Full Circle**

"Damn it," Kayla grumbled as she noted the time.

Brett was expecting her back at the apartment by now. If she didn't get moving, she didn't doubt her sister would start ringing her cell phone. Beside her, Frank had begun to stir. She hadn't wanted to wake him, but he was a light sleeper. They had come from an exhausting party thrown in their honor by some of Frank's colleagues, but managed to return to make love one last time before Kayla had to leave. Although she had been living with Frank several months, Brett insisted that she come back to the apartment and spend one last night with her before the wedding tomorrow.

In the months prior, they had begun slowly building a new relationship and life together. There was virtually nothing they didn't know about each other now. She didn't hesitate when he asked her to move in. She had hesitated even less than that when he proposed again. And tomorrow was the big day. And she had to move her ass or she would wind up breaking her promise to Brett.

Just before she slid out of bed, Frank took hold of her arm. "Where are you going," he asked sleepily.

"I promised Brett we'd have a slumber party tonight. I'm running late."

He leaned over her and kissed her lips very gently. "Do you think she would mind if you showed up even later," he asked with a wicked grin on his lips.

"She might," she said with a smile. As if on cue, Kayla's cell phone began to ring. Frank moved away and propped up on his elbow while she grabbed her phone. "Hi, Brett. I'm on my way, I promise," she said into the phone. "Ten minutes tops." She hung up and laid the phone back down onto the bedside table. Her lover was watching her, his dark eyes consuming her so very thoroughly. "Don't look at me like that, Frank," Kayla admonished playfully. "I really have to go."

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

She left the bed, approached the closet, and pulled out a tee-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. She knew his eyes were on her as she began to dress. Here lately, it had begun to be something of a tedious venture. Kayla made a face when she worked the zipper on her jeans. Ugh. They almost didn't fit anymore. She was relieved that their wedding wasn't going to be a huge, honking formal affair. If so, she probably wouldn't fit into a wedding dress, either. She bit her lip and turned toward the bed. As she had known, Frank was watching her with great interest. She vaguely wondered if he suspected anything. Kayla hadn't wanted to tell him until they were alone inside their wedding night suite, but he was gazing at her steadily. _What the hell_.

Kayla approached the bed and crawled onto it, settling herself on her knees. His steady gaze quickly became a questioning one.

"I thought you were in a hurry to leave," he said with a smile.

"I am, but there's something I'd like to ask you," she said.

He reached out to her and took her hand. "The answer is no," he said. "I'm not postponing the wedding. I don't think I can wait another eight years to make you my wife."

She laughed and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. "You're still an incredible jerk, Frank Donovan. I don't want to postpone the wedding. You're stuck with me now."

He leaned up and kissed her lips briefly. "I'm completely okay with that." He came back down to his elbow again. "What is it that you want to ask?"

"How do you feel about having a baby," she asked tentatively.

He didn't understand why she had suddenly picked right now to have a discussion about children. For a moment, he was completely oblivious to the true meaning of her question. "Kayla, that's somewhat of a deep topic to touch upon when you're just about out the door. What..." His words dried up after a moment as hers penetrated his thick skull. What had Brett called him? A big dope? Was that it? "A baby? You're having a baby?"

She shrugged. "I'd like to think of it as us having a baby. It certainly didn't happen without your help."

"Kayla, I don't...I don't know what to say," he said slowly, shock evident in his voice. "It's incredible. Amazing."

"I know," she said with a smile. "But are you happy?"

He smiled and reached for her. "Utterly ecstatic."

**Finis...**


End file.
